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Life and Letters of James 0. Andrew. 12mo §1 00 

Life and Times of Geo. F. Pierce. 8vo 2 00 

Life of Jno. W. Knight. 32mo 25 

Harry Thornton. 50 

Berry's Triumph 50 

Mr. Hall and His Family 50 

Childhood and Conversion 40 


Barbee & Smith, Agents, Nashville, Tenn. ; 
Macon Publishing Company, Macon, Ga.; or 
The Author, Macon, Ga. 

Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 

in 2010 witii funding from 

University of Nortii Carolina at Chapel Hill 




Chaplaiti of Phillips'' s Legion, Geo7-gia Volunteers, 

Author of " Harry Thorn ton," "Berry's Triumph," "Mr. Hall 
ami His Family," etc. 




Kntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1894, 

By Geo. G. Smith, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 

Zo tbc Sons of tbe Veterans, 

whether they wore the gray or wore the blue, 

this book 

is affectionately dedicated by 

The Author. 


This book has been written for the young people who are 
interested in the story of the stirring scenes through which 
their fathers passed. 

It is needless to say that it is not a true record of personal 
life ; it is no more history than is " Robinson Crusoe " or the 
" Pilgrim's Progress." The facts stated as historic are to be 
relied upon. Many of these came under my own eye, when I 
went over the ground which Roger speaks of in his campaign. 
The pictures of " Georgia life " are, I think, correctly drawn, 
and ought not to fade out entirely. 

This little book has been written in the interest of peace, 
and I have been anxious that the Southern boys and girls who 
will be largely and almost exclusively my readers should see 
not only how nobly their fathers bore themselves in the war, 
and how grandly their mothers and sisters toiled at home, but 
that they should see how really noble and generous were many 
of those who were on the other side. If any one should object 
that these characters had no counterparts in real life, I can 
only say that they have not heard the whole story and that, 
while such cases were too rare, there were such. The absence 
of malice between the soldiers was a remarkable feature of the 
contest; and if there has been feelings of bitterness between 
the North and the South, it is high time for them to have an 
end. The children of the old English people who settled 
America, whether they landed at Jamestown or Plymouth 
Rock, have too much in common to be at enmity now. Com- 
mon dangers are too near them for them to vex each other. 



One terrific war is enough. Let us have peace and brother- 
hood for evermore; but a peace purchased by falsehood or by 
suppression of the truth is no peace, and a true story is the 
only one that should be told. I have tried to tell it, and I 
should feel sad if I thought I had said anything to divide the 
young people, North and South, whom I would so gladly see 
united. Geo. G. Smith. 

Macon (Vineville), Ga. 


Chapter I, Page 
The Lawsons 1 1 

Chapter II. 
A Gathering of the Clouds 19 

Chapter III. 
" Ivy Bush " 35 

Chapter IV. 
A Chapter Which I Wish Could Be Left Out 50 

Chapter V, 
Some Pleasing Events 62 

Chapter VI. 
, A Rather Dull but an Important Chapter 67 

Chapter VII. 
The War Drum 74 

Chapter VIII. 
Helen 86 

Chapter IX. 
Gaining Experience 93 

Chapter X. 
A Week at Home , 104 

Chapter XI. 
Campaigning on the Coast no 

Chapter XII. 
infantry Service in Northern Virginia 117 

Chapter XIII. 
Things in Liberty 131 

Chapter XIV. 
Maryland ! My Maryland 134 

Chapter XV. 
«' Yank" and "Johnny " in the Same Hospital 139 

Chapter XVI. 
The Army Again — Winter Quarters , 146 



Chapter XVII. Page 

The American Waterloo 151 

Chapter XVIII. 
I lospital Life 1 54 

Chapter XIX. 
" Pine Lodge " Again 161 

Chapter XX. 
Prison Life „ 1 64 

Chapter XXI. 
Wave upon Wave 170 

Chapter XXII. 
Free at Last , iSo 

Chapter XXIII. 
Midnight 185 

Chapter XXIV. 
Beginning Anew 188 

Chapter XXV. 
Some Unlooked-for Events 200 

Chapter XXVL 
How Bob Durham Lost His Case 204 

Chapter XXVII, 
At the Bottom of the Ladder 210 

Chapter XXVIII. 
Roger Lawson, Attorney at Law . 216 

Chapter XXIX. 
A Dark Chapter in American History 231 

Chapter XXX. 
Get Thee Behind Me, Satan 238 

Chapter XXXI. 
Some Surprises - 243 

Chapter XXXIL 
May Flowers 250 

Chapter XXXIII. . 
Orange Flowers 263 



mOGER LAWSON, the first of the name who 
■'^\ settled in Georgia, came with the Puritan 
colony from Dorchester, in South Carolina, about 
1755; and settled an estate of one thousand acres 
on Midway River in what was then St. John's 
Parish. He brought with him thirty black slaves, 
who began at once to clear the land ; and as the 
range was good, the large stock of cattle he drove 
into it fared well from the first, and they rapidly 
increased, and his rice fields were soon put in 
good condition ; and when he died the second Roger 
found a large rice plantation, well equipped, and a 
hundred slaves as his heritage, and now, after over 
a hundred years, the third Roger was at the old 
home. Long ago the first home, a log cabin, had 
been torn away; and now a comfortable and comely 
mansion, built by the second Roger, father of the 
present owner, stood among the live oaks on the 
bluff. It was an old colonial mansion, with broad 
verandas and roomy halls and immense wide- 
mouthed chimneys. The mantels, which were 



brought from England, were carved with the 
quaint carving of a century ago, and the mansion 
doors were of EngHsh oak. The brick in the 
chimneys, the glass in the windows, the doors and 
mantels, came from beyond the sea, but all else 
had come from the plantation ; and though the 
house had stood for a hundred years, yet, save a 
repainting and overhauling now and then, and 
a recovering every thirty years, it was as the 
second builder left it. 

A group of neat buildings, high from the ground 
and comfortably furnished, were the abiding places 
of the household servants, of whom there seems 
to us of this day a rather excessive number; for 
there was Robert, the master's butler; and Mary, 
the maid of the mistress ; and Nancy, the house 
girl; and Jack, dining room boy; and the chief 
cook, Judy; and her assistant, Chloe; and Dick, 
the stable boy; and old Mammy and the two seam- 
tresses; and over all was Uncle Jack, who was 
Mammy's husband, and had been, he said, "old 
Massa's man servant in de late war," when he was 
in " de camp wid him." The late war was 1812, 
and it was now i860, but it was the late war yet to 
Uncle Jack. 

Roger Lawson the third, better known as Capt. 
Lawson, was a wealthy rice planter, as his father 


had been before him. He was now near fifty 
years old, and had graduated from the State Uni- 
versity thirty years before, where Alex H. Ste- 
phens was his classmate. Born in affluence and 
with all the advantages which social position could 
give him, he was yet brought up to habits of in- 
dustry and early taught self-reliance. 

Old Roger was a somewhat stern man of the 
old Puritan type, and he and his wife were devout 
members of Dr. McWhir's church at Midway, and 
they had trained the boy most carefully. There 
were no Sunday schools then ; but Sunday was re- 
garded as a holy day at " Lawson Place," and kept 
with Puritan exactness. The Shorter Catechism 
had been carefully studied by the children and 
faithfully committed to memory, and Roger and 
his sisters were thoroughly acquainted with the 
somewhat, to them, inscnitable teachings of the 
Westminster Assembly. 

Roger was a fine 3"oung fellow when he left the 
high school for Athens, and here he fell in with a 
good set. Charles Jones, his neighbor, and Tom 
Ginlat, from the adjoining county , and Alex 
Stephens, the wonder of the college, influenced 
him for good, and when the great revival came on 
in Athens he was converted, and Dr. Hoyt received 
him into the Presbyterian Church. 


Mary Maxwell, who lived on the adjoining es- 
tate, was an only daughter and inherited the broad 
acres of her father, Col. Maxwell, and was not 
only an heiress, but a lovely Christian girl, who 
had come from Dr. Marks's school at Barham- 
ville, S. C, finely accomplished the summer be- 
fore Roger graduated. It was inevitable that 
Roger Lawson and Mary Maxwell should wed, 
and wed they did, much to the joy of the parents 
of Roger and of the widowed mother of Mary, 
That was in 1838, just after Roger left college. 
The good people of " Lawson Place " did not live 
long after the happy event, and for this score of 
years Capt. Roger had been in charge of the 
two plantations. There were two large quar- 
ters in charge of a manager. In each there were 
about twenty neat little whitewashed cottages with 
a garden of an acre or more attached. In these 
cabins, as they were called, the negroes lived, and 
at the head of the avenue was the comfortable six- 
room house of the manajjer. The rice fields 
stretched along the river for a mile, and the large 
canals and small ditches divided them into beauti- 
ful plats which were planted in rice. There were 
one hundred negroes on each place, but of tliese 
there were a number of children and old people 
who did but little work. 


Capt. Lawson was a very kind master. He saw 
to it that his slaves were well fed and well clad, 
and their religion and their morals were carefully 
looked after. He had a neat chapel on his land 
built entirely by himself. The Baptist preacher 
and the Methodist missionary each had an ap- 
pointment there, and were paid by him, and his 
wife and himself and his daughter taught the little 
ones in Sunday school. 

I should fail to do my duty as a fair chronicler 
if I did not tell as true what the world has per- 
sisted in believing for a long time could not but be 
false: that these slaves of Capt. Lawson, and of 
such as he, were better fed, better clad, better 
trained, and were more moral and more religious 
and more cultured, than the same number of farm 
laborers in an}^ other part of the world, but so it 
was. They were not permitted to do as they 
wished, and alas ! I have found that when people, 
young or old, black or white, are permitted to do 
as they wish, many of them wish to go wrong. 
They were made to work, and alas ! it is a sad fact 
that many people will not work unless they are 
made to do so. The Captain's people said they 
loved him, and he said that he loved them, and I 
am sure that he did. 

However much he might lose in his planting 


ventures or however much he might be embar- 
rassed, his people had never known any difference 
in his treatment of them. Their rations and their 
clothing and their medical attendance were always 
sure. The Captain was not a money-making man. 
He lived in comfort, and gave generously, and 
sometimes disasters unlooked for came and 
pressed him sorely, and this was one of those 
times. For two successive years the floods from 
the river had covered his rice, and the whole crop 
had been lost. He had made large outlay for a 
rice mill and a steam engine, and the crops failing, 
he had been compelled to go largely in debt. This 
he had no difficulty in doing, but a $20,000 debt 
is not a pleasant thing to carry, and he felt its bur- 

The two older children of Capt. Lawson died 
in infancy, and Helen, the daughter, and young 
Roger, the son, were the only children now in the 
famil}^ Helen was a lovely, brown-eyed girl of 
eighteen, and Roger a bright, handsome, merry 
boy of sixteen. Helen had just returned from the 
school of Dr. Marks at Barhamville, where her 
mother, twenty years before her birth, had been 
educated. Roger had attended the old Med way 
academy, and was now ready for the university. 
In the summer time Capt. Lawson went with his 


family to the mountains of Georgia, and settled 
them for four months on the banks of the Sequee, 
in Habersham County. Here, three miles from 
Clarksville, he had a cosy home, on which he kept 
a few negroes and a few horses and some cattle. 
It was a retreat from the miasma of the swamp, 
and a pleasant change from lowland to upland. 

Capt. Lawson had his title from being captain 
of the Liberty Troop. This was a small company 
of volunteer cavalry, which was composed of the 
gentlemen of the county. It had been in continu- 
ous existence since the first American Revolution, 
and was the pride of the Liberty people. 

The Captain was an old time gentleman. He 
had mingled only with that class in his youth ; and 
from his father, who was his constant companion, 
he had imbibed the views and habits of an old 
time English country gentleman. Save that he 
was a Presbyterian of the nineteenth century, he 
was really a reproduction of Sir Roger de Cov- 
erly. He was a Whig in politics, and thoroughly 
conservative. He kept up too the manners of the 
century before. The old sideboard of his father 
was still in its place, and the cut glass decanter of 
cognac brandy sat upon it now in i860 as it had 
been in 1790. The visitor had opened for him a 
bottle of old wine and had prepared for him a 


brandy toddy, as it had been done for his father's 

In his family Hfe he took with no new ways. 
The card table was wheeled out in the evening, 
and father and mother and son and daughter joined 
in a game of old-fashioned whist. They went to 
church every Sunday, and were careful in their 
Sabbath observance. He was thoroughly an up- 
right man, and she was thoroughly a good woman. 
He had great respect for old traditions, and little 
use for new things. He never drank to excess, 
and his good wife had seen him take his thimble- 
ful of brandy and his glass of wine for all these 
years. I do not mention these facts to commend 
them, on the contrary I disapprove of them, but I 
mention them that I may show how good people 
lived over forty years ago. 



|T was now June. The time for the family to 
leave Liberty for Habersham was generally the 
the 15th, and Capt. Lawson was making his ar- 
rangements to go. To provide for over two hun- 
dred people for several months required manage- 
ment and money. The failure of his rice crop for 
two years successively had rendered it necessary 
for Capt. Lawson to buy largely of Western 
corn and bacon, and the large outlay for these 
things was giving him very considerable anxiety. 
The firm of Robert Harris & Co., of Savannah, 
had been the factors of his father and of his grand- 
father, and he had with them unbounded credit, 
but it had become evident that he must negotiate 
a considerable loan or be seriously straitened, and 
they had been employed to do it for him, and this 
day in June he had received their reply. He 
handed it to his wife. 

Savannah, Ga., May 31, i860. 
Capt. Roger Lawson. 

Dear Captain: We hercAvith send you account of sales of 
ten bales of Sea Island cotton and of the lot of rice sent 
by sloop " Margaret." We have communicated with our New 



York correspondents, Messrs. Fall, Daniel & Co., and they 
say that they have arranged for the $20,000 you desire to bor- 
row, but say that the mortgage of the plantation and negroes 
will not be satisfactory. The old Quaker who proposes to let 
you have the money for five years at six per cent, is not willing 
to take security of this kind ; but if you will give him a mort- 
gage on the two plantations, and not include the negroes, this 
will be satisfactory. We are sure that unless there should be a 
a strange succession of bad years you will be able to pay the 
amount easily in the five years, and as we know how reluctant 
you are to mortgage your family slaves, we have written to our 
New York friends that they could assure their correspondent 
that you wovild accept his terms. 

Very truly yours, Robert Harris & Co. 

Mrs. Lawson read the letter. The shade of anx- 
iety and of concern which crossed her face soon 
passed away, and she calmly said: "Well, dear, 
you can do no better than this; it is one of those 
things which must be done." 

" Yes, my love, it must be done; but I do not 
like to do it. The certainty of paying the note is 
as good as it can be, for I can sell a part of the 
lower place, with the hands on it, to Sam Varnadoe 
for $20,000 to-morrow, and not have to borrow 
any money, but I cannot part with my old slaves. 
I am afraid that they would not be content; for 
while Sam is as good a master as I am, he was not 
brought up with the negroes, as I was, and I can- 
not bear the thought of selling them to anybody. 


But have you thought of one thing? that lower 
place does not belong to me." 

" It doesn't? Well, to whom does it belong?'* 

" I made a marriage settlement, and secured it 
to you." 

" Well, can't I mortgage it then? " 

" No, for it doesn't belong to you." 

*' Well, who does own it? " 

" Both of us." 

"Well then, we both will mortgage it. I am 
not going to have you so bothered any longer. 
Every time you have had a letter from Mr. Harris 
you've seemed to be as blue as indigo." 

" Well, I could not help it. These various little 
debts which I could not pay, and the $10,000 I 
had borrowed from the bank through the Harrises, 
have harassed me more than I can tell; but this 
loan will relieve me, and by careful living we can 
doubtless pay it all before the day it is due. We 
will, however, have to go to Hinesville to make the 

When the trip was made they called at the office 
of Judge Law, who drew the mortgage. After 
it was signed Captain Lawson said: "Judge, I 
want you now to make a deed of gift for me. I do 
not know what may happen, and I do not know 
that she will ever need it, but I want to make a 


settlement on my wife. The plantation just mort- 
gaged was hers ; and if I were to die, and that mort- 
gage were not paid, she might be homeless. I want 
you to make a deed of gift of my place in Haber- 
sham, five hundred acres of land, with all my family 
plate, furniture, books, stock, cattle, horses, and 
hogs, to Mary Maxwell Lawson." 

"No, Judge, don't do it," said his wife. "I 
have nothing separate from Roger. I do not want 
that summer home." 

" Don't listen to her, Judge. Make that deed, 
I say, and make it now, and I will put it on record 
when I go to Clarksville. I will not feel easy till 
it is done." 

" Well, Captain, it is rather a strange freak that 
a man worth two hundred thousand dollars should 
be so anxious about settling a home not worth 
three thousand dollars on his wife, but I will do as 
you wish." 

And so the deed was drawn. The mortgage 
v/as sent on, the money received and placed with 
the Harrises, and the debts paid; and with lighter 
hearts the famil}^ began to make preparation for 
tlie journey to Habersham. 

With the mail which brou^fht the letters from 
Messrs. Harris & Co. came the Savannah Repub- 
licaii, and it gave a vivid account of the Charleston 


Convention of the Democratic party, and of the 
split in that great organization. " This," said the 
Captain sadly, as he laid down the paper, " is the 
beginning of the end. The Democratic party is 
hopelessly divided. The Republican will be vic- 
torious and abolitionism will be on top and the 
Union will fall." 

"Why, my dear," said his wife, "what is the 
reason you talk so? You were never a Democrat, 
and the mere choice of a Republican, bad as that 
would be, would surely not result as you think." 

"Well, maybe not; we shall see what we see. 
Well, let us leave politics alone and get ready for 
our trip. What do you say to our going through 
the country in our carriage? " 

"Nothing would please me better. How long 
will it take us ? " 

" We can make the journey easily in a week or 
ten days. And it will give our children a better 
idea of Georgia. We may have some rather 
rough fare a part of the way, but the pleasure of 
going through the country will more than compen- 
sate for that." 

The children were delighted at the prospect, and 
the arrangements were made for the start. The 
plain, strong, comfortable carriage used to convey 
the family to church, which was drawn by a pair 


of Kentucky horses, was brought into use for 
Mrs. Lawson, Helen, and Mammy. The wagon 
with its two mules carried the baggage and the 
other servants, and Capt. Lawson and Roger had 
each his saddle horse. The travelers had a jour- 
ney of two hundred miles before them, but they 
were well equipped for pleasant traveling, and could 
take their own time. They left "Lawson Place" 
in the early morning, and were soon in the pine 
woods moving slowly on their way. 

There are few parts of Georgia where there is 
less variety in scenery than in the pine woods of 
the lower part of the State. There is a gently un- 
dulating plain covered with forests of pines and 
with a carpet of grass now and then crossed by 
creeks, along whose borders grow the oaks, moss 
clad, and whose translucent waters have a strange 
inky tint, and small brooks which gently move 
over the white sand, and along whose banks are 
magnolias and bays. The sward of the forest is 
bedecked with flowers of great beauty. There 
were few evidences of animal life, save the birds 
and a few small cattle which were jjrazing in the 
ranges. There were but few homes, and they 
were very small and plain. Rapid traveling was 
impossible on account of the heavy sand, and 
night time found them still in Liberty; but they 


found good quarters in the home of a friend of 
the Captain, who was a member of the same troop. 
He was a plain pine woods farmer, but he and his 
good wife soon made the travelers at home. The 
supper was generous and well served, and the 
men ht their pipes and sat on the front piazza and 
talked of politics and of county matters; and the 
farmer's wife and the planter's wife chatted of 
those things which interest women. Few homes 
were more comfortable than those of independent 
farmers like John Jones, and few people were 
more content or more useful than such people. 
These families had few comforts which the farm 
did not furnish, but they did not miss them. They 
cured their own bacon, made their own sugar and 
sirup, had their own cows, and made their own 
butter. They had fowls in large numbers, and 
caught fish at will from the neighboring ponds, 
and the fields and w^oods furnished them with 
small game. The wdfe had never been far from 
home, nor did she care to go. She knew^ how to 
weave, to spin, to raise fowls, to direct the cook 
in preparing a savory meal, or if need be to pre- 
pare one herself. She made her husband's cloth- 
ing and. that of her children. And while five thou- 
sand dollars might have bought all John Jones had, 
he had enough to make him thoroughly independ- 


ent; [ind while he knew that the Captain he en- 
tertained could have bought all he owned with 
half a year's income, that hfe was college bred 
while he could barely read, yet he felt no em- 
barrassment and had no sense of inferiority to 
his guest in entertaining him, and he would have 
felt as little being entertained by him ; and so 
it was with Nancy Jones, his wife. She had met 
Mrs. Lawson at Taylor's Creek camp meeting, 
and entertained her there, and now she gladly 
welcomed her into her roomy and comfortable log 
house and entertained with as much simple heart- 
iness as if she did not know any difference in 
social conditions; and her strong-armed boys just 
from the field and her rosy-cheeked girls greeted 
Helen and Roger with hearty cheer, and while the 
Captain and the Sergeant were on the porch and 
the matrons were in the family room the ^^oung 
folks were having as merry a. game of thimble and 
blind man's buff as if they had known each other 
all the years gone b}-. 

" Well, Captain," said Serg. Jones, emptying 
his pipe, "it's about bedtime, and if you will come 
into wife's room we'll have a word of prayer." 

They came in, and the Bible was taken down 
from the shelf. " Captain," he said politely, 
" will you take the book? " 


" No; excuse me, Sergeant. I am a pretty 
good Presbyterian, but I am afraid I am rather a 
poor Christian, and can't pray in pubhc; but we 
will be glad to join with you in worship." 

The Sergeant took the book. He read his chap- 
ter, not always pronouncing the words correctly, 
but he did his best, and then gave out the hymn, 
"A Charge to Keep I Have," and the family sung 
with a hearty devotion, if not with classic elegance, 
and retired to rest. 

I have tried to give this account of the in- 
tercourse of the wealthy and cultivated of the 
Georgia people with their plainer neighbors, that 
I may show how hearty was the sympathy between 
them in these olden times. John Jones's brother 
William had been an overseer for the Captain 
for years, and while Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Lawson 
met as equals and there was no envy between 
them, 3'-et they were not sill}^ enough not to see 
that their social position v/as very different, and 
the paths of the two rarely crossed. The next 
day early the travelers were on their way through 
Tattnall, to find very different quarters for the next 
night's resting. 

It was a wear}^ day. Through beds of sand and 
long slushes they moved, and at nightfall found 
themselves in the sand hills of Tattnall. Squire 


McGinnis had the only house where a traveler 
could find shelter in that section, and when they 
reached the Squire's they found a log house with 
one room for the dwelling, and a kitchen of the 
same size near by. This was the only chance for 
entertainment. The Squire was kind enough, and 
said that they might stay, and his five growm daugh- 
ters and his good w-ife were as kind as they knew 
how to be; but to the mother and Helen the 
landscape bore a somewhat gloomy outlook. Sup- 
per was coming on, and the keen eye of Mrs. 
Lawson saw that the prospect for a scant meal was 
very promising, and witii a woman's tact she said 
to the mistress of the cabin: "Let my servant 
help 3^ou to get supper; and if you have some fresh 
eggs, we have some light bread and coffee and 
cold ham, and we can make out nicely." 

The supper provided by the Squire's wnfe was 
fat bacon, collard greens, and corn bread and corn 
coffee; and the added store from the large lunch 
basket excited some gratitude, as well as wonder. 

" Well, ma'am, I am obleeged to 3'e. We poor 
folks can't do as well as we'd like to, and then I 
don't know as whether w^e allers does as well as 
we mout ; but sich as we have you is mighty wel- 
come to." 

" Thank vou, ma'am," said the guest. *' We 


have done very well; but as I am quite tired, I 
w^ould like to go to bed as soon as convenient." 

" Yes, sartainly. Youns go in thar, and my Ole 
man and me and the gals will come in here. The 
boys (you hain't seen 'em yit) they is been out 
arter a bunch of cattle, and when they come in 
they will sleep outen the shed." 

"Well, Captain," said the Squire, "while the 
women is gittin' ready to go to bed; we'll sit out 
here, and while you smoke I'll chaw. Whar is 
you from? " 

" From Liberty." 

" O yes, I have been down in Libuty. I was a 
delegit to the Beard's Creek Association last year. 
You warn't thar, wasj^^e? " 

" No, Squire; I did not go." 

"Well, I did not think ye was. An old side 
Baptist I is, and my daddy was afore me. What 
IS you t 

' * A Pre sby terian . " 

"A Prisbyteran? Well, I have hearn of them; 
but I hain't never seen none before, and I 'spose 
you is a Whig ? ' ' 

" Well, yes." 

" Well, I'm a Dimocrat, a regular Andrew Jack- 
son Dimocrat. I tell you, Captain, when a man 
is a jestice of the peace, a Baptist deacon, and a 


rale old ironside Dimocrat, I think that will do. 
But I 'spect you is purty tired, and so I'll go in 
the kitchen, and let you and Bud thar go in to 
bed." And the Squire left his guest. 

The Squire settled his home when the pine for- 
ests on the sand hills of lower Georgia were counted 
as valueless except for their pasturage ; but he had 
a hundred head of cattle now, and enriched a few 
acres of land every year, on which he raised some 
corn and sugar cane and potatoes. He knew 
nothing of comfort, and cared nothing for it. 
Twenty dollars a year paid all his store bills ; and 
all else they needed was made at home. The 
homespun frocks of the girls, they wove them- 
selves, and the one suit of jeans which the boys 
wore in winter, and the heavy cotton they wore in 
summer, were made at home by the old lady. 
They drove some cattle to the Savannah market 
every year, and carried some wool; and brought 
back a few bundles of "spun truck" (as they 
called yarn), some indigo and madder to dye with, 
a few tools, some powder and shot, a calico dress 
for the old woman and each of the girls, a little 
coffee, and alas ! a keg of whisky; and the remain- 
der of the proceeds from his produce he turned 
into gold, which he carried back to Tattnall and 
loaned out. He had no expense for newspapers 


or magazines or schools or churches, and so Squire 
McGinnis was, despite his poor land, a substantial 
man, who had money at interest, and whose word 
in matters of business was as good as his bond. 

The fare he furnished the travelers was not the 
best; but the price of the entertainment was in pro- 
portion to its excellence, for when the Captain 
called for his bill in the morrjing- the whole sum 
asked was one dollar for everything. 

" Say, Captain," said the Squire in a low voice, 
" won't you come out here a minute? " When he 
did he said: " I've got a jug of good corn juice, 
and I thought maybe you'd like a dram. I have 
to be kind of secret about it sence my Jim is got 
so fond of the stuff that I have to hide my jug 
from him. I tell you, Captain, whisky is mighty 
good if you can take it like I do, but young folks 
is not to be tnisted these days." 

"Thank you. Squire; please excuse me." A 
shadow passed over the Captain's face, and he 
thought: " Suppose Roger should do like Jim. 

The supper and breakfast had been more easily 
arranged for than a comfortable sleeping place. 
Geese feathers may be good material to make 
beds for the winter months ; but in June, and in the 
narrow confines of a log cabin, they are not best 


suited to promote sound slumber, and when the 
Captain and Roger saw the prospect of sleeping 
on small feather beds in a close room they retired 
and left the house to the mother and Helen and 
the maid, and with their saddle blankets and some 
small pillows made themselves comfortable on the 
front piazza, if such the shelter before the door 
might be called. The good ladies did not attempt 
to sleep on the beds of down, but made what we 
people of the South call "pallets" on the floor; 
but the Squire's family never knew that their gen- 
erous self-sacrifice in giving up the feather beds 
to company had been ignored. 

In a good humor the journey began the next 
day. There were two more long drives before 
the more thickly settled parts of middle Georgia 
were reached, but there were good stopping places 
and kindly entertainment along the route. In 
those days every planter's home was open to trav- 
elers. There were no inns save in the towns, and 
the man who owned a hundred slaves and kept his 
carriage opened his door readily to the traveler. 
If he could pay with true politeness, he charged 
him for his entertainment. From the pine woods 
and the wire grass the travelers came into the 
older counties, with their large plantations and 
handsome homes. The first settlers of Georgia 


were poor people, and the beautiful domain was 
divided into small farms. These were distributed 
by lot, and many of them were occupied by those 
who drew them ; but the early settlers were a rest- 
less race, and the farms were sold and bought by 
those content to stay until the plantation took the 
place of the farm, and where many men had 
owned farms of two hundred acres each one man 
became the owner of a plantation of one thousand 
and sometimes of five thousand acres. The vera- 
cious chronicler of the Lawsons has sometimes in 
his early days gone for miles along a highway 
every foot of which was owned by one planter. 
These large tracts were divided into different set- 
tlements, upon each of which a body of slaves were 
placed under the charge of an overseer, who was 
always a white man. The planter's home was 
generally handsome and comfortable. It was 
often a large, square wooden building painted 
white, with broad verandas front and rear. The 
halls were wide and the rooms large. A great 
open fireplace blazed with hickory logs in the 
winter; and in summer windows and doors were, 
without fear of thieves, thrown open wide. The 
old plantation houses in Georgia are, alas! disap- 
pearing, and where there was once almost every 
mile a delightful home there is now merely a range 


of somewhat squalid houses peopled by the negro 
tenants of the capitalist who has become the pos- 
sessor of a score of holdings. Our travelers found 
sufficient comfort on the way; but there was little 
to interest, and at last, after ten days of easy jour- 
neying, the family were at their summer home. 


*' IVY BUSH." 

JVY BUSH " was the name of Capt. Lawson's 
summer place. It was a neat little cottage 
nestling at the base of ivy-clad hills. A fertile val- 
ley stretched away to the river, which here came 
bounding over the rocks, forming a shoal of great 
beauty. The hills lying back from the cottage 
were not fertile, but they were covered with a 
beautiful forest in which, at this season of the 
year, the woodland flowers were in rich profusion: 
the laurel, the ivy, the red woodbine, the trumpet 
flower, and the wild honeysuckles, which were 
still in bloom in high places, though it was early in 
the summer. 

Here among the cedars and mountain pines and 
oaks was " Ivy Bush " cottage. It was plain but 
comfortable, and was well though plainly furnished. 
A favorite servant who lived with his family on the 
place winter and summer kept things ready for the 
coming owner. There were hay and clover in the 
barn, home-cured meats in the smokehouse, and a 

garden full of early vegetables waiting for the 



family. It was indeed a cosy nook in which to 
hide away, and the tired travelers enjoyed it fully. 
Captain Lawson had bought the place five years 
before, and had improved it by removing the un- 
sightly log hut in which the former owner had 
lived and by building the present cottage. lie 
kept it merely for a retreat from low-country 
heats, and spent from June to November at it. 
There were a hundred acres of good valley land ; 
the rest was in forest. The village of Clarksvdlle 
was three miles away, but on the hills around him 
some families from middle and lower Georgia had 
settled summer residences. It was, perhaps, to be 
regretted that these people were numerous enough 
to make up a circle of their own, and that they did 
not intermix with the people native to the county 
to a greater extent; for generally people who know 
least of each other think least of each other, es- 
pecially if they are neighbors, and many a quarrel 
might have been prevented if the people who en- 
gaged in it had been thrown under the same roof 
for a week before it began. The low-country 
people called the up-country people " Crackers," 
and the up-country people retaliated by calling 
them " Stuck-up High Flyers." The families had 
but little intercourse with each other; but it so 
happened that Squire Bass, a substantial old farm- 

" IVY BUSH. 37 

er whose place adjoined Capt. Lawson's had 
been closely connected with the Captain in some 
business affairs, and the Captain had been enter- 
tained at his home, and so the two families had be- 
come on quite good terms. The old Squire was 
one of the best specimens of an up-country farm- 
er. Religious, sensible, decided, kind-hearted, 
pushing, industrious, and withal well to do, he 
lived in great comfort in his double log house, 
around which Were four hundred acres of arable 
land. His grass and grain grew in the valley, and 
his hillsides were for pasturage. Forty years be- 
fore he had moved from Rutherford County, N. 
C, to the woods of Habersham and settled on the 
very tract of land on which he lived now. He 
brought with him his rosy-cheeked bride. Peggy 
Burns was her name before she married. She was 
only sixteen and he was eighteen when they were 
wed, and for near fifty years they two had jour- 
neyed hand in hand together. When they came 
to the wilds she was a bride, and she bravely stood 
by him in all his early struggles. It was a hard 
life at first. The trees were to be felled, the cabin 
to be built, and the crop to be made ; and she had 
brought him no dowry, and he had only means 
enough to buy his land. Her old mother gave 
her a spinning wheel and a loom, and she knew 


how to use them; and for all these years the 
Squire had never worn any clothing her loom did 
not weave and her needle did not make. His 
rich son from Atlanta sent him a suit of broad- 
cloth, tailor made, but he left it in the great hair- 
covered trunk and wore his- brown jeans suit still, 
Aunt Peggy, as everybody called her, was a stout 
old body of sixty-five. Her house was as neat as 
a pin. The floors were covered with rag carpet 
woven by her own hand, and the beds were cov- 
ered with woolen counterpanes of blue checks in 
winter, with homemade spreads of snowy whiteness 
in summer. Everything told of her love of neat- 
ness and order. They had no well: but a spring 
bubbling at the foot of a \vhite oak sent a merry 
brook toward the river, and a huge trough of poplar 
into which the refreshing current ran furnished a 
receptacle for her crocks of milk and butter. The 
hillside had on it a magnificent orchard of apples 
and cherries, and a row of huge walnut trees 
which the good man of the house had planted 
thirty years before was in the lane in front of the 
house. They were contented and happy old peo- 
ple who had brought up a large family. All their 
children were gone from them now but the baby 
boy, Jimmy I shall call him. He was twenty 
years old, but he was their baby boy still. There 

'* IVY BUSH." 39 

were half a dozen negro slaves on the place. 
When the Squire came to Habersham he had none ; 
but his wife's mother died, and a black man and his 
wife were their legacy. They had never bought a 
slave and never sold one ; but as the children went 
from them they each took with them one of the 
negroes who had been brought up with them, and 
now old Joe and Kitty and the four boys were left 
at the home. I have lingered long around this old 
homestead; in truth, I am loath to leave it. How 
many happy hours have I spent under this hospi- 
table roof! No wonder Capt. Lawson loved the 
old people, and no wonder his wife was a favorite 
with Mrs. Lawson and Helen. The Squire was a 
stanch Methodist and a class leader, and Aunt 
Peggy had been one before him, and all their chil- 
dren followed them. The Lawson children had 
learned to love these good old people, and Roger 
was an especial favorite with the old Squire, and 
indeed Roger was a boy to be fond of. He was 
so bright, so generous, so brave, so unsuspicious, 
just such a boy as makes one who knows boys anx- 
ious lest he be ruined by a wicked world. The 
first visitor to the Lawsons after they reached 
Habersham was the Squire. Jimmy attended to 
the farm now, and his father took the world easy. 
He had an old horse. Ball was his name, which 


he had raised from a colt and which his own hand 
had fed for these fourteen years; and when Ball 
was seen hitched you might be sure the Squire 
was near by. The Lawsons had not fairly finished 
breakfast the day after they came when Roger 
called out: "There is old Ball at the gate and 
there is the Squire ! " And he ran to give a hearty 
greeting to his old friend. " Come in, Squire. We 
are so glad to see you. How is Aunt Peggy? and 
how is Jimmy? and how is Trip? and" — 

" Bless you, boy, give me a chance to blov/. 
They is all well, and how's your folks? Glad you 
is all back to Habersham." 

"Well, come in. We are just at breakfast. 
Won't you come and have some?" 

"Have breakfast? you lazy folks; why Jeems 
is been in the bottom a plowin' this two hour. 
I've had breakfast three hour ago. But where's 
your pappy? " 

"Here he comes now; he'll be awful glad to 
see you, and there is mamma and Helen." 

The old gentleman received a hearty greeting 
from them all. 

" Well, Squire, I am much obliged to you for 
seeing after things, and as you won't let me pay 
you, Helen and Mary have brought you and Aunt 
Peggy a little present, and I made Jack put in 

" IVY BUSH." 41 

the wagon a little sack of rice as a present for 

"Yes, Uncle Bass," said Helen, "I have 
brought you a pair of spectacles. I told the jewel- 
er to give me some strong Presbyterian ones, so 
you could read the Bible right; and here is Aunt 
Peggy's present," giving him a New Testament 
of extra large print beautifully bound in Turkey 

"You brought me some Prisbyteran glasses, 
did you, you sassy gal? Well, they'll have to be 
mighty strong before I can see any of your Pris- 
byteran doctrine about election in the Testa- 
ment. Well, won't Peggy be proud? Well, how 
have you all been this long time? " 

" O you can see we are all well. How is Aunt 
Peggy?" said Helen." 

"Well, Peggy is tolerable, she has a leetel 
touch of the rheumatiz, but she keeps a gwine and 
gets about right peart. She says you must all 
come over Saturday and take dinner with us, and 
bring your knittin' and spend the day. I must go 
up to Clarksville this mornin', but I rid by to light 
a minute. But I must be a gwine. Good morn- 
in'." And the old man and old Ball were soon 
out of sight. 

On Saturday Capt. Lawson and his family went 


over to spend the day. What delightful times 
those all-day visits were. The motherly Aunt 
Peggy met them at the gate and kissed Mrs. Law- 
son and Helen tenderly and led them into the 
homely dwelling. I suppose it will change — in- 
deed, I know it has changed — but I wash it never 
had, those days of old when wealth and style and 
culture did not come in to separate people who 
were made to love each other. I don't know 
enough about the way women entertain each 
other to tell of how pleasantly the hours passed by 
wdth Mrs. Lawson and Aunt Peggy, but this visit 
had an influence on Helen's future which was 
greater than she knew. 

"Well, how my little gal has growed," said 
Aunt Peggy. " So you've left school, is you? 
and you can play the pianny and paint picters, 
but have you larned how to cook? Can ye cut and 
make your own frocks and make your pappy's 
coat and breeches? " 

" Why no. Aunt Peggy, that was not taught at 
Dr. Marks' s school." 

'* Well, it ought to have been. I tell you good 
vittals is a mighty helpful thing in this world, and 
you never know what's gwine to happen. Jeems 
won't let me cook now; but for ten year arter we 
was married he never eat a bite I did not cook. 

" IVY BUSH." 43 

and I've larned Maria how to do it to suit him. 
You may never have it to do, your mother never 
has, but you don't know what'll come to pass." 

*' You are right. Aunt Peggy," said Mrs. Law- 
son. " I am only sorry I never did learn to do 
these things, and I wish Helen did know how to 
manage like you do." 

" I tell you, Helen, my child, thar is nothin' 
mean about work; I know you can 'broider and 
do — what do you call that kind of knittin' you do 
with one needle? — crochshay, yes, but to make 
good butter, to cook good bread, to knov/ how to 
manage with chickens which has the pip and the 
sore head (I never could manage coleray, though), 
is better than all that. Never, gal, put yourself 
wharyou are obleeged to marry a rich man." 

" Thank you. Aunt Peggy. If Aunt Judy don't 
drive me out of the kitchen, I am going to learn 
how to cook this summer." 

When Roger went with the Squire and his fa- 
ther to the stable he asked for Jimmy. 

"Jeems is down in the bottom. That young 
corn is growing mighty peart and needs plowing 
mighty bad, and he and the boys are at work 
thar. He'll be up to dinner, and he'll knock off 
then. I tell you, Captain, I believe in boys as 
havin' somethin' to do. The best thing for a boy 


like Roger here and Jeems is to have regular 
work. They must bar the yoke in their youth as 
the Scripter says. They think their daddies is 
right tight on 'em, but they get whar they know its 
best. Jeems would have liked to have rested to- 
day, case he thinks a power of Roger and Helen, 
but he said he would not do so. So, Roger, you 
must enjoy yourself as best you kin till he comes. 
You can take Trip and go a squirrelen or you 
can ride with me and your pappy over the farm," 

" I'll take Trip and go squirreling," said Roger. 

The Captain and the old man were riding along 
when the Squire said: "What's 'this about the 
Dimocrat party a splitten. What's it a splitten 
about anyhow?" 

*' Well, I don't know the cause of the split, but 
I fear the result of it." 

"Do you think them black Republicans is got 
any chance to elect a President." 

" Well, I am afraid they have a good one. I 
got a long letter from Alex Stephens (you know 
he and I were in college together), and he is much 

"Well, you know, Captain, I am a Union 
Dimocrat. I voted for Andrew Jackson the first 
time I ever voted, but I've been afeared between 
the abolitioners and the fire eaters we was gwine 

" IVY BUSH." 45 

to get into trouble." How is craps with you 

" Well, you know I've lost two crops of rice 
in succession, but the prospect now is good if we 
don't have another flood." 

" How many niggers do you have to feed any- 

" I have two hundred and fifty, all told, and 
when my rice fails it is an almost total failure. I 
have had to borrow money largely or sell my 
negroes, and I could not do that; but if I've a good 
crop this year, I hope I'll come out." 

" Captain, what are you gwine to do with my 
bo}^ Roger," 

" Well, I am sending him to school, and he is 
about ready to enter the university. I want him 
to make a scholar. After that I will let him choose 
what to do." 

" Captain, you and I have always been good 
friends, and, if you will allow me, I would like to 
say a few words, case I think you'll take it right." 

" Certainly, only don't try to get me to go to 
class meeting again. I tried that once." 

"Well, I ain't a gwine to do that; its about 
Roger. You are not settin' the right example be- 
fore that boy." 


The Captain's cheek reddened. "How," he 
said, " am I failing?" 

"Well, when I tuck dinner with you last year 
you know right before Roger you asked me to 
jine you in a dram ; and when I would not you tuck 
one 3^ourself , and then you had wine on the table 
and Roger drunk a glass and you drunk two. 

" Why certainly, 1 was raised that way and I 
never was drunk; and I want Roger to learn to 
control himself, so I never refuse him wine when 
he wants it." 

"Well, Captain, I can't argy with you, but 
somehow it don't seem to me to be right. I am 
afeard of consequences. But thar's the dinner 
horn; let's go back." 

Jimmy returned from the field and Roger from 
the wood, and the young plowman soon came 
from his room neatly clad in his Sunday suit. 
The Squire would not wear store clothes himself, 
but he bought them for Jeems he said; and as Jim- 
my had spent two years in his brother's counting- 
room in Atlanta, he had taken on the easy wa3'S 
of a city boy, and when he welcomed Roger and 
Helen he did so with easy grace and greeted the 
fair girl with great heartiness, though his cheek 
reddened a little as he met her. The contrast be- 
tween the sturdy form and high color of the 

" IVY BUSH." 47 

mountain boy and the beautiful brunette from the 
coast was striking, and was not less a contrast than 
his hearty tone and open manner and her inde- 
scribable gentleness and sweetness of tone which 
marked the women of her class of coast people. 
Roger was delighted to see his old friend. Jim- 
my had been his earliest Habersham friend. 
They had fished for trout and perch and hunted 
birds and squirrels and had driven cattle for the 
Squire from the mountains together. Jimmy was 
was four years older than Roger, and the Captain 
and Mrs. Lawson were not unwilling for Roger to 
have a companion whom they could trust so im- 
plicitly. As for Helen, it was not to be supposed 
by them that she would feel anything greater than 
a friend's interest in Jimmy, nor did they suppose 
he would in her, and they were right. The old 
Squire and his good wife would have been as little 
pleased with the prospect of a tender passage be- 
tween these young folks as the Captain and Mrs. 
Lawson. So if you think I am going to tell you a 
love story and to tell you that the handsome young 
plowman was going to fall in love with the plant- 
er's daughter, and that there was going to be a real 
romance, you are mistaken. The truth is, Mary 
Blakely, over the mountains, had already won Jim- 
my's heart, and at the last Loudsville camp meet- 


inff the enfragement had been made, and that fact 
was much to the gratification of the old people, 
but that was no reason why Jimmy should not like 
Helen. She was as cordial as a warm-hearted 
girl could be, and he did like her. So when din- 
ner was over the young folks went out hunting 
flowers on the hillsides, which only a month before 
had been bleak and bare. The mountain country 
where the Lawsons lived was over 1,800 feet 
higher than their coast plantation; and while the 
early flowers were gone long ago in Liberty, the 
fields and woods of Habersham were in richest 
loveliness in June. 

It was late in the afternoon when, after a day 
of real enjoyment, the family returned home. 
The maid met them with the announcement that 
Col. Du Barry, his wife, and Miss Flora had called 
while they were gone, and left their cards and an 
invitation for them to dine at the " Crow's Nest" 
on Wednesday next. 

Col. Du Barry was a retired factor from Savan- 
nah. He had a large planting interest in lower 
Georgia, several rice plantations, and any quantity 
of money and bonds. He did not Hke the water- 
ing places of the North, and his hay fever was re- 
lieved by the mountain air; and so he had an ele- 
gant home to which he came every year, and to 

" IVY BUSH." 49 

which his wife came when she did not go to Sara- 
toga or the White Sulphur, which she was pretty- 
apt to do every summer. They were now in 
Habersham ; and as they knew the Lawsons well, 
they called to invite them to dine. The invited 
guests went to the elegant dinner and had an 
evening of what the world calls enjoyment. 
The old Colonel and Mrs. Du Barry, and Capt. 
Lawson and Mrs. Lawson played whist at one 
table, and young Du Barry and his sister and 
Helen and Roger played another game of cards at 
another table. Wine was freely served at dinner, 
and all drank as a matter of course ; but when they 
went home they agreed vv^ith Roger when he said : 
" You may say what you please, but I like Squire 
Bass and Aunt Peggy's plain ways better than all 
this fuss and feathers." That is, I am sure, the 
honest opinion we all have; but I fear that if you 
and I were rich enough we would rather be called 
Du Barry than Bass, and dine as late and in as good 
form as the Du Barrys did than at twelve o'clock 
and in the simple way of the Squire, but it would 
not make Roger's remark any the less sensible. 



^W^HE love I had for Roger would have led me to 
^ have kept back everything which detracted 
from him, but a faithful biographer must tell the 
truth or not spea:k at all. Roger had been a good 
boy up to the present time. When he was very 
small he had been very religious. His old colored 
mammy used to talk to him a great deal about God 
and heaven and hell; and his dear mother used to 
read to him from the Bible and from good books, 
and teach him to sing and to pray. He learned 
the Shorter Catechism by heart, and old Dr. 
Preston, the pastor of Med way, after he was four- 
teen more than once expressed the hope that he 
would come into the Church at the next communion. 
It would have been so easy then for a gentle hand 
to have led him into the fold, for he was so near 
the kingdom of God; but childhood passed, and 
thoughtless boyhood came ; and now he was near- 
ing young manhood, and had not professed re- 
ligion. He had been taught to shrink from false- 
hood, cowardice, penuriousness, rudeness, and 


cruelty, and he had a wholesome aversion to them 
all; but alas! he had never been taught that re- 
ligious faith was for a little boy, and he had not 
taken Jesus as his Saviour, and had never been 
made anew by his grace. 

Dick Du Barry was as graceless a young repro- 
bate as ever wore decent clothing, but he was as 
fascinating as he was vile. His mother was a 
woman of fashion, and his father a man of the 
world. The family was of ' the earth, earthy. 
Dick, although he was no orphan, had never 
known a mother's tender care. iVnother breast 
nourished him when a babe, and another hand at- 
tended him as a little child. High-spirited and 
willful, the handsome, smart little fellow soon 
learned how to tyrannize over inferiors and how 
to secure his ends, and he used his knowledge to 
good effect. His governess gave him up as incor- 
rigible as she gave up her place, and he was sent 
while still a child to a boarding school, and sent 
back home by the teacher. Then, when he was 
older, he was sent to Maj. Bingham. The Major 
would have conquered the stubborn, willful boy by 
his military discipline ; but he smuggled out a let- 
ter to his mother, telling the most doleful story of 
his wrongs, and she sent for him to come home. 
Then his father, who had been educated by the 


Jesuits, sent him to Spring Hill; but the good fa- 
thers dismissed him from school, and he was now 
in Habersham. 

There were some things Dick knew perfectly. 
He was fully up on etiquette, he knew how to 
dance all the new figures, and there was no game 
of cards, from faro to whist, which he could not 
teach one to play. He was a capital rider, a good 
shot, and dressed in perfect taste. There was 
nothing rude or blustering in his manner, and his 
French blood indicated its presence by a beauti- 
ful polish. He had seen the world; he had gone 
with his mother, season after season, to Saratoga 
and White Sulphur, in Virginia, and he went with 
her on her trip to Paris. He profited by his op- 
portunities to learn everything that he ought not 
to have known. 

Poor Roger was never away from his country 
home. Unsuspecting, confiding, he was just such 
a boy as nearly always falls a victim to such a foe 
as young Du Barry was. 

Dick did not dislike Roger; on the other hand, 
he was very fond of him, and it v/as all the worse 
for Roger that he was. In a little while Roger 
was completely under his control, and woe to him 
that it was so ! Every day they were together. 

In Dick's bedroom there was a trunk in which 


he had stored away a number of those vile books 
which even the law shuts out from the mails, and 
v/hose only claim to distinction is that they are 
vile. He had no end of stories of flirtations and 
escapades. Many of these stories were false, and 
some, alas! were true. 

The young folks at " Crow's Nest" and "Ivj'- 
Bush" had their card parties and tiieir dances 
and their excursions; the heads of the families 
still opened their wine, and drank their cognac. 
The Lawson family went in regularly to the little 
church in the village, and Mrs. Lawson read de- 
voutly her Bible every day, and read the New York 
Observer on Sunday afternoon; and no one saw 
that a serpent was already coiled, and about to 
strike the son, the pride of the household. 

It was by gradual, and yet rapid, movement 
that the noble boy fell into bad ways. I need not 
particularize. He was but a bo}^, not quite sev- 
enteen, a warm-hearted, thoughtless, fun-loving 
boy, without religion, who had been allowed to 
tamper with drink and with cards all his life. He 
knew that his mother would never suspect him of 
wrongdoing, and believed that his father would 
not be severe in his censure of his vagaries if he 
should discover them. When he first became 
conscious that he had taken too much wine, there 


was a feeling of deep shame and remorse ; but the 
pride of the Lawsons came to his aid, and he re- 
solved that he would prove he was strong enough 
to resist the next time. True, Dick Du Barry had 
taken three glasses to his one, but he would not 
go even that far again, even though he did not to- 
tally abstain. 

Dick and Roger were almost inseparable. His 
old friend, Jimmie Bass, found Roger somewhat 
cold, and quietly drew off from him; and the 
Squire looked sad when Roger's name was men- 
tioned, and when Dick and Roger came dashing 
by old Ball and his master as they were going to 
Clarksville, and there was scarcely a recognition, 
the old man's face was shadowed, and he said to 
himself, " Tut, tut ! shame, shame I blind, blind ! " 
"What he meant he knew. I could only conjecture. 

The billiard room in Clarksville was a favorite 
resort of the boys, and Roger and Dick joined 
their other friends. The pool was made, money 
was lost and won in trifling amounts ; but gaming 
had begun. 

The Captain was absorbed in politics; Helen 
was painting a landscape and reading Mr. Dickens's 
new book, " Dombey and Son; " and poor Roger 
was going to the bad, and nobody saw it. Nobody? 
Yes, One saw it, and that One in mercy interfered. 


His divine Father had an eye on him which never 
slept, and he is understood how to act. There 
are times that sin has to uncover itself and show 
what it will do before the sinner will pause; but 
the devil sometimes defeats himself, or his agents 
disobey his instructions. 

Dick and Roger, often under the pretense of go- 
ing to churches to meeting, took long rides into the 
country round about; and though they did go to 
meeting, they went for a frolic, and not for de- 

One Saturday Dick said to Roger: " Roger, 
there's going to be a meeting of the Tiger Tail 
Association up on Tallulah to-morrow, and a 
crowd of us are going up to have a rare time. 
Don't let the women folks know where you are 
going, but just tell themx you are going to church, 
and ride over by my house and we'll go up." 

"All right; I'll come." 

Roger did not come to that conclusion without 
compunction, but he had committed himself to 
Dick so completely that he was not disposed to re- 
sist. Dick and the Heyward boys and Alfred 
Hartley formed a group of fast low-country boys, 
all older than Roger and all of them from the best 
families. They hunted deer and foxes together, 
and in all the frolics of the time they had their 

56 Tim BOY IN GRAY. 

share. They did not always go to the most repu- 
table places and did not meet the most reputable 
people, and sometimes they had unpleasant con- 
flicts with the county youths. 

The Durham boys lived in a cove of the moun- 
tains. There were five of them. They were 
rude, uneducated, coarse, and courageous. They 
delighted in their physical strength and enjoyed 
nothing more than a row. The coterie of low- 
country bloods had aroused their ire, and there 
was danger of open conflict. It came sooner than 
they thought. The 3'^oung men from the low 
country who went to the Association were all 
drinking, Roger among them. They were in a 
hilarious mood when they reached the grounds 
where the Association was held. There was quite 
a crowd gathered. A shelter was made by plac- 
ing the boughs of the small oaks on a frame, and 
seats were made of logs. This constituted the 
preaching place. The preachers, dressed in 
homely garb, were preaching from this stand. 
Elder Pigeon, from Rabun, was holding forth in 
a quaint style on "And the oil stayed;" and he 
was followed by Elder Tucker, on "And he took 
thereout a rib." The sermons were certainly 
unique enough, and the tone was as striking as 
the texts were odd. The group of which Roger 


was one were more amused than profited, and they 
did not hide their merriment. More than once they 
laughed outright. Bob Durham was not a mem- 
ber of the old side Church, but he was akin to 
the preacher who was forced to rebuke sharply 
the irreverent youngsters, and his ire rose at their 
disrespect to the place. He glared at the crowd 
angrily, and when they rose to leave, as they did 
in the midst of the sermon, he and his brothers 
rose too, and they went to where the offenders 
had their horses. Walking up to Dick Du Barry, 
he said sharply: " Well, you'd better leave here. 
You think yourself powerful smart with your fine 
clothes and highty-tighty airs, but if you don't 
leave here pretty quick there'll be a way found to 
make ye." 

The boys were half intoxicated and were ready 
for a row. Dick was no coward ; and, shaking his 
whip at Durham, he angrily said: " You'll make 
me, will you? If you don't want a taste of this 
whip, you will get away from here." 

"I will, will I? If you'll pull off that broad- 
cloth coat and stand up like a man, I'll teach you 
some manners." 

" Manners, you blackguard? You'll teach me? 
I'll horsev/hip you if you say a word." 

" Well, maybe 3^ou will, smarty, after I've 


smacked your jaws, and I'll do that before you 
knov/ it." 

With a sudden stroke Dick brought his whip 
down on the rustic's shoulders, and in a moment 
the sturdy mountaineer had him by the throat and 
blow after blow from the stout hickory riding 
switch he had in his hand fell on the broadcloth 
coat of Du Barry. 

Roger rushed up to the aid of his friend, and 
Bill Durham, Bob's sturdy brother, seized him 
and threw him down; and was about to fall upon 
him when Jim Phillips and Jimmy Bass came on 
the scene. Phillips separated the two combatants, 
Du Barry and Bob ; and Jimmy seized Roger and 
violently led him away. 

"That will do. Bob," said Phillips; "let him 
alone; I'll take care of him." 

"Well, take him away, Jim Phillips. You's a 
gentleman, if you is rich; but if you don't, I'll 
maul the life outen him." 

Roger was angry enough to have dared any 
danger, and struggled to rush to his friend's help; 
but he was a child in Jimmy's hands, and Jimmy 
held him firmly as he said to Bill: " Bill, 3"0u and 
I are good friends; now let this drop for my 


** Well, Jim, I will, but no man shall tech my 
brother in a far fight." 

The feeling of Roger as he rode away was not 
to be envied; the Sabbath desecrated, and now a 
disgraceful row in which he bore so shameful a 
part was what his course brought about, and his 
mortification and anger were both increased when 
the very person who had influenced him to do these 
things angrily said: "Roger Lawson, you are a 
brave friend, aren't 3^ou, to stand by and see a 
friend beaten like a dog because you were too 
cowardly to help him? " 

"He did want to help you, Mr. Du Barry," 
said Jimmy Bass very decidedly; " and if there is 
anybody to blame for his not doing it, it is not 
Roger Lawson but Jimmy Bass, and you know 
where to find him." 

Jimm}' and Roger rode on together. The others 
of the group had now come up ; and Du Barry, an- 
gry and humiliated, rode off at a rapid pace with 
them . 

" Roger," said Jimmy, as they parted at the gate, 
" I'll see you to-morrow night. Good-bye now." 

The next night he came, and Roger joined him 
for a walk. " Roger," said his old friend, " v/e've 
been boys together, and I've seen where you were 
going to lately, and now this thing must be stopped, 


or you are a ruined boy. To think of your moth- 
er's son and Miss Helen's brother taking up with 
such a crowd! I am ashamed of you." 

Roger's eyes were opened. He saw the gulf he 
had just escaped, and not too soon ; but the 
deepest pang was before him. His father, igno- 
rant of what had happened, went to the village, 
when Col. Billups called him into his ofiice. " Cap- 
tain," he said, " Squire Larkins came to see me 
to-day to have a presentment made to the next 
grand jury of a crowd of boys who are accused 
of disturbing public worship, and your boy was 
among them. I begged the Squire to hold up till I 
could see you." 

"Impossible ! Col. Billups, it Is impossible ! My 
boy has been too well bred." 

" Well, you see Jimmy Bass. He was there, and 
will tell you all about it." 

He went at once to the Squire's, and sent for 
Jimmy. Jimmy told the story as it was. Roger 
was intoxicated, and he did disturb public wor- 

The Captain's face burned with indignation. 
"To think that I have trusted him so, and he has 
disgraced me! I will send him to Maj. Bingham, 
and let him tame him," he said to Squire Bass. 

Squire Bass said calmly and gently, but sadl}^: 


"No, Captain, you will do no sich thing. You 
remember my talk with you. You are to blame, 
not the boy." 

*' Yes, Squire, I am. II Roger goes to the bad, 
I am to blame; but hear me, the last decanter of 
brandy has been used at my house, and the last 
bottle of wine has been opened there." 

"That's right, Captain. Now don't be hard 
on Roger. I've raised six boys. I know 'em. 
Take the self-respect from 'em, and you haint 
nothin' left. Talk plain to him, but be kind. 
Make him quit a goin' with that Du Barry boy. 
Give him somethin' to do, and trust in God for the 

" Thank you, my old friend; and may God for- 
give a poor, misguided, sinning father, and save 
his boy from ruin ! " 

The Captain came sadly home. He saw that 
the frank face of his proud boy was clouded, and 
the firm-set lips told of his determination to resent 
rebuke, but rebuke did not come. The father 
told his son sadly of what he had heard, told him 
of the pang he had suffered, and then made an 
honest and humble confession of his own error. 
The boy was melted. He asked his father not to 
let his mother or Helen know; and they never did, 
and so Roger escaped the snare. 



T%TELEN had not forgotten the advice given by 
•*■ I Aunt Peggy, and she had intended to act 
upon it; but she had delayed, partly because she 
had a picture to finish, and partly because she was 
afraid of Mom Judy. Mom Judy, the v/idow of 
Daddy Juba, had been the chief cook of the Law- 
sons ever since Helen could remember, and no 
Catherine of Russia, or Elizabeth of England, 
ever ruled with a more autocratic sway than Mom 
Judy ruled her kitchen. She was almost as broad 
as she was long. Her head was always turbaned 
with a red handkerchief, and her strong arms were 
bare to the elbow. Her kitchen was her castle, 
and no one dared to cross its sacred threshold 
without her consent. She had a helper in a 
negro girl, whom she could alternately lecture, ad- 
vise, and scold ; but for this I cannot say what would 
have become of Mom Judy. I hope, however, the 
effect of Chloe's absence would not have been 
quite so serious as she said: " De trute is, honey, 


I am jes obleeged to scole somebody, or dis ole 
nigger would bust wide open ; she would for true." 
And that would have been a calamity of no small 
magnitude. She came every morning to her mis- 
tress to get orders for the day, and Helen went 
with he>r to the pantry and the smokehouse, and 
supplied her demands, and after these stores went 
into the kitchen no one knew more of them till 
they reappeared on the table. 

The kitchen was some little distance from the 
house. It was a rather large room with a large 
fireplace, in which was a crane for the pot, and a 
full supply of pots, kettles, ovens, skillets, spiders, 
frying pans, etc., and, indeed, all the needful furni- 
ture for a good kitchen. 

The floor was always neatly sanded with white 
sand from the brook, and the room was kept 
scrupulously clean. 

Stoves were not common in the South in that 
day ; and while there was one here. Mom Judy pro- 
tested against the innovation, and still used her 
old utensils. Indeed, if she could not have seen 
the red coals on the lid and basted the big turkey 
in the great oven and heard the bubbling of the 
boiling pot, she would have been unhappy. 

Chloe was her scullion. She was her grand- 
daughter, and Mom Judy's ambition was to make 


a high-order cook out of Chloe ; but the wayward 
girl taxed her patience sorely. To-day, as usual, 
Mom Judy was on the rampage, and Chloe was in 
vain protesting, with an air of injured innocence, 
in a kind of soliloquy: "I clar I cain't please 
grandmammy no way; if I does somethin' she 
fusses, if I does nothin' she fusses, if I try to 
please her she fusses, and if I don't try to please 
her she fusses; she is de worry ob my life." 

She was now giving Chloe fair warning that she 
*' would bust her head open wid dat rollin' pin de 
fust thing she knowed," which threats did not 
seem to alarm Chloe in the least. 

Just then Helen came tripping into the kitchen. 
In a moment there v/as a calm, and a broad smile 
covered the black face as she said: "Well, little 
missie, glad to see you in de kitchen. What kin 
your old mammy do fer you? " 

*' Well, Aunt Judy, I have come to get you to 
learn me to cook." 

An expression of blank amazement came over 
the old face. Was her "little missie jes a projeckin' 
wid her. Yes, dat was it," and with a hearty laugh 
she said: "I larn 3'ou to cook? Yes, w^hen my 
little missie larnsole Judy how to play de peanner." 

*' No, Aunt Jud}^, I am serious; I want to learn 
how to cook." 


'Aunt Judy looked in alarm. Had her little mis- 
tress lost her mind? What was the matter? But 
Helen said : ' ' Now, Aunt Judy, be a good old dear, 
and show me how. Aunt Peggy told me to learn." 

" Well, dat splains it. When quality folks go 
wid buckra folks deys gwine to larn buckra ways. 
Why, little missus, dat ting jes can't be. I been 
cook for my ole missus, your mudder's mudder, 
an' my young missus, your mudder, an' nebber one 
er dem put de foot in de kitchen, 'cept to give me 
my orders. Why, little missie, it jes cain't be." 

" But, Aunt Judy, we may be poor some day." 

" Po? Why, Miss Helen! Who eber hear ob 
a Lawson er a Maxwell bein' po? Ain't massa 
got two hundred an' fift}' likely niggers, an' eber 
so many tousand acres er land? an' now you want 
to cook like po buckra. No, little missie, it jes 
cain't be." 

" But I may marry a poor man, and have to work 
some day." 

" You marry a po man? You — what, Col. Max- 
well's granddarter? Why, Miss Helen, a po man 
won't dar look at you. No, you go back an' paint 
your pretty pictures ; you cain't come in here." 

" Well, Aunt Judy, mother says I may." 

"Well, ef young missus say so, den I say so. 
Now, dar's dat new ting over dar yer pappy 


brougnt nere, dat new stove. I ain't use 'em, and 
I don't want to use 'em; but Til make Chloe kin- 
dle you a fire in 'em, and den I'll do what young 
missie say. But what would my ole missus say if 
she seed it? " 

So Helen took her first lesson in the fine art of 

I confess my ignorance along here. The mys- 
teries of the kitchen I reckon I will never solve; 
but my admiration for the girl who knows how 
to broil a steak, make a roll, or draw a cup of 
rich, clear coffee from the fragrant berry, grows 
with m}^ advancing years. 

When Roger saw his sister in the kitchen he re- 
solved that he would learn something too. He 
proposed to his father to take a farm hand's place 
for the summer, and the Captain employed him 
at regular wages; and he donned the dress of a 
farmer boy, and went into the field regular]3\ 
What he did, he did well. Jimmy Bass and he 
met in the hayfields and the cornfields. Dick 
Du Barry no longer recognized him, and Miss 
Flora only nodded her head; but Roger cared 
little for that. He had more serious views of life, 
and took up again those religious habits which he 
for some time past had laid aside, and was Roger 
over a<rain. 



fAPT. LAWSON was quite an intelligent 
man, and took great interest in political mat- 
ters. He saw the clouds gathering in deeper vol- 
ume on the political sky, and could not conceal 
his anxiety. Few persons at this day can realize 
the bitterness of the political parties before the 
war. There were then in the field four parties: 
the Breckinridge Democrat, the Douglas Demo- 
crat, the Bell and Everett or American party, 
and the Republicans. The Republican party 
had no existence in Georgia, and so bitter was 
the feeling against it that one's life would have 
been in danger if he had avowed connection with 
that party. Two things had fastened themselves 
on every Southern mind: the one that if negro 
slavery was overthrown white men could not live 
in the South; and the other, that the Republican 
party was determined to overthrow it. The first 
of these views was not correct, we know, but it was 
held; and the last may not have been true, and 

was certainly disavowed. It was hoped by men 



like Capt. Lawson that the middle ground of the 
American party, as unobjectionable, and men as 
John Bell and Edward Everett, who were candi- 
dates, might be accepted by both sections and that 
peace might still hold sway, but it was soon evident 
that when a divided Democratic and a united Re- 
publican party were in conflict there could be but 
one result, and from that Capt. Lawson shrank 
in great dread. He had returned with his family 
to Liberty. The rice had been reaped and 
thrashed and sent to his factors in Savannah to be 
prepared for market; for after the grain has been 
cleared from straw and chaff on the plantation 
it must be pounded at the rice mills in the city 
until the yellow covering is stripped from it, 
when it is sorted and packed in tierces, and 
shipped to all parts of the world. There had no 
disaster befallen the crop, and all things on the es- 
tate promised well. The Captain cast his ballot 
for John Bell and Edward Everett and went to his 
home. He had a feeling of genuine depression, 
for he felt assured that his vote had been in vain, 
and it was. In a week came the news. The Re- 
publican party was victorious. Mr. Lincoln was 
elected. There was now consternation through- 
out the South. Something must be done, but 
what? I have a vivid remembrance of these days, 


and one more vivid than pleasant. When the 
Captain reached home the cloud on his face told 
of the news he had heard. 

"Well, my dear," said his wife, "what is the 
matter? " 

"As I feared, Mr. Lincoln is elected, and what 
that means God only can tell." 

" Well, what of that? Surely the election of a 
candidate you did not prefer does not mean so 
much as you seem to think." 

" No, it would not if it had been Douglas or 
Breckinridge. But a black Republican in the 
Presidency will not be borne. He must be a 
foe to slavery, and its overthrow is our ruin. 
South Carolina will secede, and other slave States 
will follow." 

"Will there be a war?" 

" God forbid! Alex Stephens writes me, how- 
ever, that if there is secession it will certainly 
come; and when it comes who can tell what will 
be the end? Alas for party hate ! " 

That night Roger and his father had a long talk. 
If my young friends will be a. little patient, perhaps 
I can tell them what they have wished to know: 
why so many good people in the South went into 
the war. 

" Father," said Roger, " who made the Union?" 


"The colonies, my son." 

"What colonies?" 

" The thirteen independent colonies." 

" Who made them independent? " 

" The English Government, whose colonies they 
were, declared them such." 

" How came these independent governments 
united into one." 

" They made a Confederacy." 

" For what purpose? " 

" For their own protection." 

" Did any one surrender all right to withdraw 
from this Confederacy? " 

" No; on the contrary, some of them stipulated 
that they would withdraw if their safety demand- 
ed it." 

" Did any State ever do so? " 


" Did any ever propose to do so? " 

" Yes; the New England States said that if cer- 
tain things were not done they would withdraw." 

" Were these things done? " 

"They were, or at least the grievance was re- 

" Why are we afraid of Mr. Lincoln? " 

" Because he is put in by the antislavery peo- 


" Will they destroy slavery? " 

" Thev promise to do so." 

" Will that destroy us? " 


" Can't we keep him out of his seat? " 

"No; that would not be lawful." 

" Can we secede or withdraw lawfully? " 

"I think so." 


" I fear not. 

" Father, are you a citizen of the United 

" No; I am a citizen of Georgia first, and then 
a citizen of the United States because I am a 

"If there should be a war, who must you 

" My State." 

" Well, I hope there won't be a war; but if it 
comes, I know who'll whip." 

"Well, who?" 

" The South; that's who." 

" Don't be too certain. But it is not yet certain 
that we will be forced to these stern measures." 

I should not, however, be a fair historian of 
these times if I led my 5'^oung readers to think that 
the side which Capt. Lav/son took was the only 


side that was taken in the South, and that all 
Southern people saw matters as he did. The 
fact was far otherwise. There were many excel- 
lent people in the South who believed, as nearly all 
the people of the North, that a State had no right 
to secede, and who looked upon all movements in 
that direction as treason. They were not lawless, 
not even abolitionists, and would not have done 
injustice to any, but they held to this opinion 
most strongly. 

Old Dr. Prescott, the pastor of Medway, was a 
Connecticut man. He had been in the South 
many years, and was a bitter opponent of anti- 
slavery men or abolitionists. He said that he hon- 
estly believed the negro was better cared for as a 
slave than he would be as a freeman, and that 
neither the Bible nor the Constitution of the Unit- 
ed States forbade slavery in some form ; and he be- 
lieved the abolitionist was a foe to the negro's best 
interest. Like Capt. Lawson, the old doctor was 
a conservative and voted for John Bell and Ed- 
ward Everett. He came over to the Captain's a 
few days after the announcement of Mr. Lincoln's 
election, and naturally the question of " What 
now? " came up for discussion. 

"Well, Doctor," said the Captain, "what is 
the prospect?" 


*' Gloomy, sir, gloomy." 

"Will South Carolina secede? " 

"I think she will." 

" Has she a right to do so? " 

"I think not." 

"When did she surrender it?" 

" When she accepted the present Constitution." 

"Why, is not that a compact between the 

"No; it is a union of the people." 

" Well, we will not discuss that point; but if. 
she does secede, can the other States force her 

" I fear they will try." 

"Then what?" 

" Then God pity my poor country! " And the 
old doctor's lips quivered and the subject was 



I)F my young readers wish to get a true history of 
how the war commenced and of how it pro- 
gressed and of how it ended, and will give a life- 
time to its study, they may find the facts out, but 
they cannot get them from this chronicle. It has 
only to do with what Roger Lawson did in the 
war, and so this chronicler can tell only a part of 
the story. 

The States seceded, the war began, troops were 
called for, and the Liberty Troop offered itself to 
the Governor for service, and was accepted. 

Capt. Lawson, with his servant boy, young Jack, 
and his son Roger, joined the troop, which ren- 
dezvoused at Walthourville, and from thence went 
into camp to be drilled for service. The old 
Taylor Creek Camp Ground was chosen as the 
camp of instruction, and the tents made good bar- 
racks, and the old field near by good parade 
grounds. The month that was spent in the camp 
was a month of real jollity. Mrs. Lawson, Helen, 

and Roger came to remain while the troops were 


there. It had not been Capt. Lawson's intention 
to take Roger with him to the army; and while 
Roger was eager to go, he was not wilhng to ask 
his parents to permit him to do so, because he 
thought he ought not to leave his mother. But 
Mrs. Lawson could not consent for her husband 
to go without her son, and she insisted that Roger 
should go, which he did as his father's orderly. 

There had never been a war in the memory of 
any of the Liberty County people, and all the 
soldiers they had ever seen had been merely holi- 
day soldiers. There were perhaps none. North 
or South, who realized in 1861 what war meant. 
The horses were fat and well groomed, the uni- 
forms were new and bright with their gold trap- 
pings. The shrill fife and drum and the cavalry 
bugle kept the camp alive. Wives and mothers 
and sweethearts came to the camp to visit the sol- 
diers; the tables were spread with abundance of 
food, and in the balmy air of the Southern spring 
this life out of doors had a wondrous charm. But 
this kind of soldier life could not continue long. 
The first battle of Manassas came on while they 
were in camp, and the Troop was ordered to ren- 
dezvous at Atlanta, where it was to become a part 
of the First Battalion of Georgia Cavalry and 
elect its officers. Then the farewells were sadly 


spoken, and the bugle sounded and the troop be- 
gan its march. When the battalion was organized 
in Atlanta Capt. Lawson was elected lieutenant 
colonel commanding; and then his command was 
ordered to report at Lynchburg, Va., where it 
would receive further orders. 

The horses were put in the stock cars, and the 
men and officers in the freight cars, which were 
provided with rough seats, and they were conveyed 
by rail to Lynchburg. This charming city on the 
upper James was a delightful place for a rendez- 
vous, and the handsome young fellows who com- 
posed the battalion had the entree into the elegant 
society of the old town. And for several weeks 
while they were awaiting orders there was a round 
of festivities. But at last orders came to march. 
Col. Lawson was to report with his battalion to 
Brig, Gen. Floyd, at Sewell Mountains, W. Va. 
The brigade was to be transported by rail to 
Jackson's River, and thence march to Sewell. 
Roger's own account of his first campaign is, per- 
haps, as good as anything I can give. It was in a 

letter to Helen: 

Jackson's River, W. Va., September, 1861. 

My Dear Helen: Well, we are here at last, and such a time we 

had to get here. It was jolly at Camp Brown, in Liberty ; but that 

was nothing to Lynchburg. The city is built on the side of a 

steep hill, and when you are on the top of that one there is an- 


other hill yet. I think that a hogshead of tobacco would roll 
down a half-mile into the river without slopping if it got started 
on the hilltop. But such clever people and such prettj girls 
jou never saw. The girls came in crowds to see our dress pa- 
rades, and we had all our best uniforms out, and were on our 
best behavior, and we had a grand time. But the order came 
for us to move on. The gruff old quartermaster, when he saw 
our big trunks, told us that we had better store them there, for 
he would not try to get them over the mountains. So we left 
all our dress uniforms, and took our fatigue suits. 

We had a pleasant enough time in getting to Charlottesville. 
It is only sixty miles from Lynchburg; but it took us all day to 
make the trip, and there we had to change to another railroad. 
Charlottesville is a quaint old town, where the University of 
Virginia is located. We could see " Monticello," where Mr. Jef- 
ferson lived, from the town; but we could not go out to it. We 
started early in the morning for this place. I did not know till 
I got fairly started on this journey how little I knew of Vir- 

We were soon in the mountains, and passed through one 
tunnel a mile long. The scene at Rockfish Gap, just before we 
entered the tunnel, was the finest I ever saw. I cannot describe 
it; but I wish you could see it. 

Our train moved very slowly, and when we reached Staun- 
ton, a nice little city famous for its schools, we were halted for 
the night. We got out of the cars, and kindled some camp fires 
and had some coffee, and spread our blankets on the grass and 

The next day we steamed away again, and it was not long 
before we were in the wildest country you ever saw. Moun- 
tains were on all sides of us. The railway crept along their 
sides, and when we reached INIillboro we had to have two en- 


The country has grown wilder and wilder ever since we left 
Staunton, and at last when we reached here we were simjjlj no- 
where. We are at the jumping off place, jou may be sure. 
There is nothing here but scenery; but there is plenty of that. 
I forgot, there is not only scenery, but beef; such beef I never 
saw before. Great steers, which must weigh nearly two thou- 
sand pounds, are here by the hundreds. We are going to leave 

I am as well as I can be, and feel as happy as a boy can who 
has left his heart behind him, for I must tell you a secret: There 
Avas a pretty girl in Lynchburg named Kitty Payne, whom I 
used to go to see, and I feel mighty like a fellow with a Payne 
in his heart. 

Give a hundred kisses to mamma, and tell Mom Judy I wish 
that she could see the biscuits that Jack makes. It would make 
her jump. We will use them in our light artillery when we get 
out of balls. Good-bye. Roger. 

Jackson's River, although it seemed a long way 
from civilization, was after all over fifty miles from 
the point they were aiming at. Gen. Floyd was at 
Sewell, and Gen. Rosecrans was in his front, and 
Gen. R. E. Lee was coming with the troops from 
Cheat Mountain to brinj^ on an enffa^ement. So 
there was but little time for waiting, and as soon 
as the troops were rested they moved forward ; but 
Roger stopped long enough at the next camp to 
write to Helen: 

White Sulphur Springs, W. Va., September, iS6i. 
My Dear Helen: We wished to leave early in the morning 
for a long march, but by the time we got our bascratre wasrons. 


and our horses in proper shape, and our rations cooked papa 
said that we could not make more tlian ten miles. He told me 
that he had dispatches from Gen. Floyd not to push his men, 
and while he wasted no time to come on without hurry, so we 
started for Callahan's, where we were to camp. 

I reckon jou have heard of roads, but such a road as this 
turnpike is jou never dreamed of. It has rained, and rained, 
and rained. The very bottom seems to have dropped out of the 
roads, and four horses can hardly haul four barrels of flour. 
Our horses go floundering through mud and mire, and we are 
spattered with mud from head to foot. 

Covington is a pretty little town at the base of the mountains, 
■with the Jackson River winding all around it; but we had no 
time to stop, and so over the mountains we pressed to where 
there is a gap or narrow passage between them. Here there is 
an old time tavern kept by an old Irishman named Callahan. 
If vou remember, Porte Crayon, in Harper^ told of this very 
place. We found a good camp in the meadow, and Jack made 
us some good coffee and broiled us some nice beef, and we had 
a good night's rest. 

Some of the Liberty boys grumble about these mountains. 
You know some of them ne\-er saw anything higher than a 
gopher hill till they left with the troop; but generally they take 
it all in good humor. W^e had a long march over the mountains 
the next day. For five miles we never saw a house, and then 
for fifteen miles not another. One man, whose name is Sprauls 
(or Sprawls), lives out here by himself. He makes some corn. 
The boys say that he plants it by shooting the grains into the 
side of the mountain with a rifle, for they say it is too steep to 
plant it any other way. 

V\'ell, you have heard Flora Du Barry talk about the White. 
It surpasses her power to exaggerate, and 3011 know that it is 
pretty good. It is the most beautiful spot I ever saw. Sur- 


rounded bj mountains on all sides, with a great big hotel and a 
great many cottages, and a lawn that must have been charm- 
ingly beautiful before it was so neglected. Everything is now 
out of order, and the hotel and cottages are used for hospitals. 
There are a great many of our men sick. We liave measles, 
and mumps, and fever; but I am thankful that papa and I 
keep well. I like the army. I don't know how I will like it 
if we have any fighting. Papa has just got a dispatch from 
Gen. Floyd, who says he must be at Meadow Bluff to-morrow 
night. So we will have a long march, and must start early. 

Don't forget to kiss dear old mamma a hundred times for 
her boy, and tell Mammy howdy. 

Gen. Lee was in charjje of the Western Vir- 
ginia Department, and the Confederacy was at- 
tempting the fooHsh task of holding the western 
part of Virginia to the Southern Confederacy by 
sending its best troops and most accompHshed 
commanders to that field. Gen. Lee had decided 
to make a movement by which he hoped to draw 
the wily Rosecrans into a battle. He had or- 
dered Gen. Floyd to the summit of Little Sewell 
Mountain, and he now moved with his troops 
from Camp Alleghany to join him. Col. Law- 
son's battalion and a regiment of Georgia infantry 
were ordered to report to Gen. Floyd. The diffi- 
culty of supplying these troops so far from the 
base of supplies was very great, and horses and 
men had scant enough fare. The battalion left 
the White for the army at early dawn the day 


after Roger wrote. They had no breakfast, and 
made their first halt at Lewisburg. Roger, as 
soon as he reached Lewisburg, wrote, this time to 
his mother: 

Lewisburg, W. Va., September lo, iS6i. 
My Dear Mother: I wrote Helen from White Sulphur. 
Beautiful as the White was, we were glad to leave there. 
What our horses could not find in the meadows around they 
had to go without. Poor little Daisy looked so wan and I was 
so sorry for her that I gave her the bread which Jack gave 
me for my breakfast. We had a muddy road. We passed out of 
the valley, and just between the mountains acrystal stream, now 
full because of tlie heavy i-ains, was roaring away on our left, 
and a high mountain covered with yew trees and white pines 
and laurels was on the right. There were no settlements till 
we reached the Greenbrier River. We crossed on a bridge, 
and then such a climb as we had over the river hills. Our bat- 
talion could not keep up any order, for the long train of provi- 
sion wagons was before us, and we had to move like snails. You 
maj' imagine we wanted our breakfast before we got it, but after 
a tiresome march we pitched our camp on a hill in the village 
of Lewisburg. This is a little village, which seems to be a 
very nice place. When we pitched our camp and while we 
were getting forage for our horses and breakfast for ourselves 
we had a chance to see some of the girls of the village. If I 
had not lost my heart in Lj'nchburg, I think one of these Lew- 
isburg girls would have captured me. Well, we had to wait 
here for our wagon train till after dinner. A gentleman 
named Montgomery came to camp and asked to see papa, and 
told him that some of the men had been burning his rails. He 
told papa that he had plenty of wood that was at the service of 
the troops, and asked him to order the men to use that and not 



destroy his fences. Papa sent an orderly quick and stopped 
the men; and then Mr. Montgomery asked us to take dinner 
with him, and we went. He has such a nice liome and such 
sweet little children. He is a good Presbyterian, too. They 
say the people in this western part of Virginia are all Union 
folks, but I don't think they are ; all thef.e Lewisburg people 
are very strong Southerners. Well, we got away at last; and 
leaving a few sick here, we marched on toward the Meadows. 
Gen. Lee came down to-day, and I saw him and his staff. lie 
is a very elegant soldier with a gray mustache and no whiskers. 
He had on a very plain, neat suit of blue and rode a beautiful 
white horse which he bought here in Lewisburg. Papa came to 
see him, and he shook hands with him very cordially, as he did 
with me. His adjutant brought us orders to remain and bring up 
the rear guard to-morrow. I am having a good time. Don't 
be worried about me. Papa is quite well. I will write to Helen 
from our next stopping place, which will be I don't know where; 
but papa says Meadow Bluff, where Gen. Wise's brigade is. 

Roger had now begun to know some of the 
hardships of camp life. It was a very different 
thing from what he had supposed it would be. I 
am sure from my experience in camp that the one 
who went a soldiering to have a good time was 
badly cheated. The cavalry went splashing 
through the mud in the middle of the turnpike, and 
the infantry walked through the fields and wher- 
ever they could find ground dry enough to walk 
on. Rains fell almost every day, as if the heav- 
ens were weeping over the fratricidal strife. The 
men were going they knew not where, and every- 


thing looked dreary. The bright-hearted Roger, 
however, kept up his spirits and the spirits of 
those around him; and wrote cheerfully to his 
mother when the weary march ended for a while 
at Little Sewell: 

Little Sewell, September, 1S61. 
My Precious Mother: Well, we are here at last! When we 
reached Jackson's River I wrote Helen that we had reached the 
jumping off place, but we have now jumped clear off. We are 
in the woods on a mountain with not an inhabited house in — I 
don't know how far. I did not know there was so wild a spot 
in all Virginia, and O what a time we had in getting to it. We 
left everything that we could leave in Lewisburg, and began 
our march for this camp. For five miles we had a beautiful 
country to march through. The hills were covered with blue 
grass, and on every farm were fine brick residences. The heavy 
wagon trains had worn the pike into holes and ruts, and the 
troops have swept the farms clean of everything like fences, and 
chickens and ducks I fear have fared badly, for I am sorry to 
say the average soldier don't think it a sin to steal a chicken ; 
and as Jack had a little inclination that way before he entered 
the army, I fear he has not improved. I am afraid the chicken 
pie he served to-day for dinner did not come from a bought 
fowl. Andy Rhodes, one of papa's men, from Cherokee, said: 
"Yes he did kill the ducks, and he intended to kill every 
duck which tried to bite him." Well, we had a great time sleep- 
ing out without tents in the rain, but we got along very well. 
We made a great big fire and stretched a pole over some forks and 
then put up some rails on that and covered that frame with our 
oilcloths, and then Ave laid some rails close together and put 
some hay on them and then our blankets on that, and laid down, 
clothes, boots, and all, and slept O how sweetly. 


I have not heard from you since I was at Lynchburg. You 
asked me if I went to church. O yes, I did; and I went to the 
Methodist Church because — well, you know Miss Kitty went 
there, and her father had a pew, and she asked me to go with 
her; but papa went to hear Dr. Iloge, the Presbyterian. No; 
I have not touched wine or cards or whisky, and I don't intend 
to. Dont be bothered about us and don't be scared about the 
battle which we look for every day. If old " Rosey " tries to 
come up this hill, we are ready for him. Our cavalry are having 
a right hard time scouting and going on picket, but the infantry 
say the cavalry are just scaring up the bears for them to fight 
while they get away; but you know that isn't so. 

Give Helen and Mammy my love. And be sure and write a 
long letter to me and papa, at Lewisburg. Direct to us " Lewis- 
burg Army, West Va., Lawson's Battalion, Georgia Cavalry," 
and we'll get the letter. 

Affectionately, Roger. 

Col. Lawson added a P. S.: 

Roger has left his letter open for me to finish. You need 
not fear an engagement. I saw Gen. Floyd to-day, and we to- 
gether saw Gen. Lee. He says he does not think that Rose- 
crans is going to move on us, and he evidently does not expect 
to move on him; and I see all things are readj' to go back to 
Camp Alleghany. I am so glad that I brought Roger with 
me. He makes a fine soldier. He did not write you about a 
little incident that touched me very much. As we rode over 
toward Sewell from Meadow Bluff I noticed a poor infantry 
soldier who had fallen out. He was completely exhausted. 
Roger rode up to where he was, and got off his horse, and 
helped the poor fellow to mount, and walked beside Daisy till 
they reached a house by the wayside. He went in and got the 
people to take the poor fellow in. Roger had walked five miles. 


We are having rather wet weather; but don't be uneasy about 



Roger wrote to Helen two days after: 

Sewell, September, 1861. 

Dear Helen : Well, old " Rosej " is gone. We woke up yester- 
day morning, and found that his white tents were no longer to 
be seen, and Gen. Floyd ordered papa to send a company as a 
scouting party to see what had become of him. So papa sent 
the troop, and of course I went. We went on an old road which 
used to be here before the turnpike was made, and went 'cau- 
tiously till we were in full sight of the retreating army. We 
could see them from the place where we stood, and saw that 
they had left Big Sewell sure enough. Why, I don't know. 
There seemed to be a great army of them; but they have 
vamoosed, and after all our marching and all the mud, we did 
not fire a gun except at some sheep; but we did fire at them, 
and killed them too. You see rations run mighty short, and 
somebody told Capt. Rich that he saw a flock of sheep; and 
papa asked Gen. Floyd if he might capture them and use them 
for the men. He told him yes, but told him to be sure and or- 
der his men not to shoot. They found the sheep, and took 
after them ; but the sheep were running too fast for them, and 
Andy Rhodes, the man the ducks were about to bite, could not 
stand it, so he let loose with his navy, and got a sheep every fire. 

When we heard the shots we supposed that the battle was 
on, and the men went to the breastworks; but no enemy came. 
They sent one of the sheep to old Gen. Floyd, and he forgave 
the shooting; for no one knew who shot, so they said, after the 
officer began to inquire about it. 

We are still going westward — where, I don't know; and no- 
body else does but Gen. Floyd. Gen. Lee and his troops have 
gone back, and we march to-morrow. Roger. 



]| MUST not forget Mrs. Lawson and Helen. 
? While Roger was undergoing the hardships of 
the campaign the good folks at home were not 
without their cares. It was impossible for them 
to go to Habersham, and it was not at all safe for 
them to stay on the plantation during the fall. Capt. 
Lawson had been called away so suddenly that he 
had been compelled to leave the selection of a sum- 
mer home to his wife. Helen was a gentle and very 
quiet but a very decided person, and she realized 
that her tender mother was not able to cope with the 
trials before her. She saw that this question about 
a home must be settled. So she rode over on her 
pony to Mr. William Jones, the overseer, to have 
a consultation. He was at home on the veranda 
smoking his after dinner pipe when she came in. 
Putting the pipe aside and hastily drawing on his 
homespun coat, he met her at the steps, and po- 
litely placed a chair for her, and waited for her to 
besi;in the conversation. 

After meeting the overseer's wife and looking 

HELEN. 87 

at the baby, the young mistress of the plantation 
seated herself and began to open her plans. 

" You know, Mr. Jones, we must get away from 
here soon, and we cannot go to 'Ivy Bush' this 
summer, and Fve come over to see you about 
what w^e are to do." 

"Well, Miss Helen, I've been a considerin' of 
that myself; but Fm af eared my plans won't ex- 
actly suit you." 

"Well, what are they?" 

" Well, I don't think this war is gwine to be a. 
short un, and I hain't mighty sure which side is 
gwine to be on top when it's over, and my erpinion 
is that the best way to do is to ' take time by the 
forelock,' as my dadd}^ used to say, and my own 
idee is to buy a piney woods place away from 
the coast, and move some of the stock and all of 
the sheep up thar ; and that will be a place whar 
Mrs. Lawson and you can summer. It may be a 
leetle lonesome; but I think I can get a place in a 
good settlement, and 3'ou will have good neigh- 
bors, if they is plain." 

" Mr. Jones, do you know a place like that?" 

' " Yes, I think I do. Billy McCord had two lots 

up near John's, jest ajining, and he's gone to the 

war, and his wife wants to go over to Tattnall to 


Stay with her married darter; and I heard that he 
wanted to sell out and buy over thar.'-' 

" What do you think the place would cost? " 

"Well, the land hain't fust-class, though when 
it's trod and well worked it makes good truck; but 
it's a powerful healthy, and I think Miss McCord 
will sell cheap. I have heard that she would take 
$3,000 for the whole thing." 

*' Find out, and let us know." 

" Well, I'll go up to John's to-morrow, and see 
Miss McCord." 

He went up to the pine woods, and the next 
evening after tea returned. Helen and Mrs. Law- 
son had consulted. The plan of the overseer was 
a good one, and they would adopt it, and when he 
reported that the place, with a comfortable log 
house, with shed rooms and kitchen and other out- 
houses, with one hundred acres under fence and 
eight hundred in timber, with twenty-five head of 
cattle and fifty head of sheep, could be bought for 
$3,000 cash. 

Helen had never had any business transactions 
with anybody. If she wanted money her father 
gave it to her, if she wanted dry goods she sent an 
order to Rogers & Ellis, and they were sent, and 
so with all she needed ; but now she must arrange 
for a considerable sum of money and take new re- 

HELEN. 89 

sponsibilities. Nothing so develops people as ne- 
cessity, and the necessity was here. So the car- 
riao-e was ordered, and Helen went with Mr. 
Jones to the railroad, and thence to Savannah, 
where she saw Mr. Harris. He fully agreed with 
her about the propriety of the purchase, and as 
there was still a balance of the money borrowed to 
Capt. Lawson's credit, and as Helen's mother was 
authorized to use it, the pine woods plantation 
was bought, and the family had their summer home 
fixed there. 

Mr. William Jones, the overseer, remained at the 
rice plantations the larger part of the time, night 
and day. In the summer he removed his family 
to his old place, near his brother's, so he was en- 
abled to watch over both plantations. 

Uncle Jack was the real supervisor of "Pine 
Grove" under Helen's direction. The sheep had 
been sheared, and the wool had been shipped, as 
usual, to the Roswell Woolen Mills to be made 
into kerseys; but Uncle Jack said: " Miss Helen, 
why for you no git some cards, so dese lazy nig- 
gers can card dey own wool for to make dey close, 
an' not send 'em so fur away? " 

** Well, that is a good idea. Uncle Jack, and I'll 
send to Savannah for a box of wool cards, and 
some for cotton, too." 


So the cards were sent for, and Mrs. Jones had 
a half-dozen looms put up, and the women taught 
how to spin and weave. 

Mrs. Lawson found Helen a thoughtful helper 
at all times, and although the girl tenderly loved 
her father and brother and could not but feel their 
absence, she saw that the best way to show her 
love for them was not by complaining at their ab- 
sence, but by caring for the things in which they 
were concerned. 

At first there was no want of an3^thing; but the 
thoughtful Helen saw that with the ports all closed, 
and with the unusual demand that the war made 
for manufactured articles, there must soon come 
scarcity, and so she began at once to provide 
against it. She agreed with her manager that to 
live at home and buy but little was the only true 
course, and that it was wise to get now such things 
as she might need hereafter. So she laid in full 
supplies of all the heavy groceries still in the 

She found time, in the midst of all her labors, to 
give the mail boy, who called every three days at 
" Pine Lodge " on his way to the railway from 
Riceboro, something for those away. When Roger 
was at Sewell he received this long letter from 

HELEN. 91 

"Pine Lodge," September 15, 1861. 

My Dear Roger: We received your letter from Lynchburg 
just before you left, and also yours from Jackson's River. Since 
then we have heard nothing; and as you were at the jumpino- 
off place, we do not know but that you have jumped. 

We were very sorry to hear of your attack of heart disease. 
I am afraid you don't really want to get the Payne out of vour 
heart. I can't say so much for her. She has doubtless forgot- 
ten the young Georgia cracker by this time, and has taken a 
young otKcer under her pious care. 

Well, we are here. What do you think of my going into 
the land market.' Papa suggested to mamma to get a country 
home at Walthourville; but c\ery house in the village was 
taken, and we had no time to build. We could not go up the 
country, and so mamma and I concluded to come here^ We 
found that we could buv the place, but could not rent it, and as 
]Mr. Jones thought it would be a good trade, and as Mr. Harris 
said that he could manage about the money, we bought it. We 
moved up over a month ago. We did not care to getaway from 
" Lawson Place " till we were obliged to, and you know that it 
is not safe to remain there later than the ist of August. 

I have got to be a regular manager. Old Uncle Jack is my 
factotum. We bought all of Mrs. McCord's chickens, ducks, and 
geese, and I have become quite a poultry raider. Then I have 
taken some lessons in weaving and spinning, not doing it my- 
self, but learning how it ought to be done. 

Poor mamma is doing her best to keep up and be cheerful as 
possible, and I feel like I must take all the care from her that I 

You asked about company. Mr. Jones's daughter Nancy 
stays with us. She is very neat and good-natured, and is a 
pleasant companion. We are only half a mile from Serg. Jones, 
and his people, or some of them, are over here every day. We 


have the Methodist Church in a mile from us, and a Sunday 
school -which I attend, and the Varnadoes live not very far off, 
and come over and spend a day with us now and then, and 
sometimes we go over there. Then we have the w-eekly Rich- 
mond and Savannah papers, and I am reading old books and old 
magazines. Write us every time you get a chance, and tell us 

Affectionately your sister, Helen. 

Roger's mother added to Helen's letter. 

p. S. — Helen has written you a long letter, and I will just 
add a line. O my dear boy, what a precious girl she is! She 
knows how much I miss you, and she seems anxious to take all 
care from me and do all my thinking. She found no Sunday 
school here, but though she is so timid, she began one, and 
now she has at least forty little children, who meet her every 
Sunday. She leads the music, reads the Bible, directs the school, 
and with the help of the old class leader, Mr. Andrews, they 
say she manages the school splendidly. The people about 
here like her so much, and are so kind to us all. Be a good 
boy as you have always been. God keep you safely. Take 
good care of my dear Roger. 

Your affectionate Mother. 



The King of France with forty tliousand men 
, Marched up tlie hill and then marched down again. 

f SUPPOSE that if the authorities in Montgomery 
or Washington had known what would have re- 
sulted the " Star of the West" would never have 
tried to reach Fort Sumter ; and if she had, the Con- 
federate batter}^ on the island would never have fired 
on the old flag ; and I'm sure that if the Federal and 
Confederate authorities had been wise the cam- 
paign in Western Virginia would never have been 
undertaken, for a more useless and costly cam- 
paign on both sides was never conducted. The 
government at Richmond believed it of vital im- 
portance that West Virginia should be held. 
They did not know enough of its geography to 
know that it would hold itself. So when Gen. 
Lee, who saw the folly of any further advance to- 
ward the Ohio, or of any further effort to hold 
these wild hills against an invader who had no use 
for them, had gone back to Camp Alleghany, and 
thence to Richmond, the stout old Gen. Floyd 
was left alone. Who planned the campaign which 



like to have ended at Cotton Hill in the capture 
of the brigade I never knew, but somebody had 
some ideas that did not materialize. The sup- 
plies that were needed for the army at Sewell 
had to be hauled sixty miles over wretched roads, 
and all the teams which had been taken from the 
farms were not suflicient to bring the food needed 
for the army. To march down the pike after 
Rosecrans was not wise, and so it was decided to 
move on his flank and get behind him. I suppose 
our general commanding expected somebody to 
move down the turnpike on the enemy's front 
while he crossed the Kanawha, and strike him in 
the rear — a very good plan if it could have been 
carried out. The army never knew where we were 
going, but we retraced our steps to Meadow Bluff 
and thence to New River and over it, or rather 
through it, we went into Raleigh, and then through 
Fayette County to Miller's Ferry and Cotton Hill, 
and from there Roger wrote to Helen: 

Cotton Hill, Fayette County, Va., .September i, iS6i. 

Dear Helen: We are here at last. I thought we were out of 
the world when we got to Sewell, but now we are away on the 
other side. We struck our camp at Sewell and moved back to 
the Meadows, and then the army turned toward the New River. 
The pioneers had gone ahead to make tiie road passable, and 
we managed to get along, but it was with great difficulty. Such 
a wild country I never supposed was in Virginia. There was a 


squad of us joungsters who concluded to strike across the 
country bj a neighborhood road from our New River camp. 
Just before night we came to the stock farm of an old Virginia 
gentlemen. Just to think of finding out here in these wild hills 
and meadows one of the most delightful and elegant families 
you ever saw. The girls are highly educated, and in the strag- 
gling house of a half-dozen single-story rooms was a fine piano, 
and the first music except that of the fife and bugle I have heard 
since we left Lynchburg we had the night I was there. And 
what a nice supper we had. I was sorry to leave them the next 
morning, but we had to go. Our camp was on the east side of 
New River, in a beautiful little valley, where there was a sulphur 
spring. They have the white sulphur, the blue sulphur, the red 
sulphur, the salt sulphur, the black sulphur, and this is the green 
sulphur. You know an army has much more to do than to march 
and fight. There are roads to make, provisions to haul, and the 
sick to provide for, and just now we have our share of sick folks 
you may be sure. Where have all these soldiers been raised, that 
they have never had the measles and mumps and other diseases 
which every well-bred boy ought to have before he is twelve 
years old.'' but right out here in the woods, where there are 
few doctors and no medicine, to be getting sick is too bad. 
Our chaplain and the surgeons have their hands full. We had 
to swim the river on our horses. In we went and over we went. 
Daisy swam beautifully. Then we were in the woods sure 
enough, and we are not out of them yet. We passed through 
two small villages and came out into a very nice settlement 
where there were some right neat homes, and before I knew 
where we were I found we were in a skirmish. The yankees 
were on the other side of the river, at the " Hawk's Nest," as it 
is called, and were picketing the river banks Avhen our advance 
came in sight of them. There was a good deal of shooting at 
long range between their sharpshooters and ours. I fired my 


first gun, but I don't think I hit tlie jank, because I saw him 
run ; and as I was Ijing behind a log, I don't think I was in 
much danger. 

Well, we are living high, if to be high up in the air can be 
called so, but otherwise our fare is but middling. Jack is thor- 
oughly " disencouraged," he says. "Dis here country. Mass 
Roger," he sadly remarked last night, " nebber was made for a 
decent man to lib in. De idee dat Capt, Roger Lawson should 
hab to eat de kin' of flour dey gib us, an' hab nothin' but black 
sorghum sirup; and I hab to make him biskuts with no lard, no 
soda, no buttermilk, no nothin'. I wish dem yanks would stay 
at home or leave here, and let us git back to Liberty." 

Our flour is made by grinding wheat in a corn mill ; and as it 
is not bolted, it is not pearly white. We are simply watching 
the yanks and waiting. It has been raining a great deal, and 
roads are bad; and as we are a hundred miles from our nearest 
railroad station, you may not wonder that we are somewhat anx- 
ious to know what is next. I hardly think old " Rosey " will 
try to cross the rivers (for we are in the bend where the New 
and Gaviley make the Kanawha). The other day I went with 
papa and a party of explorers to the mouth of Loop Creek, on 
the Kanawha. This put us several miles behind the yankee 
camp. I think maybe Gen. Floyd thinks of crossing there, but 
I am a little afraid the Yank's may cross first and come up be- 
hind us. You never saw as wild a country as this. There are 
nothing but hills, hills covered with grass and apple trees, with 
now and then a tobacco field. 

I will write you soon again. Roger. 

The camp was so located that the crossing of 
the New River by one detachment and the cross- 
ing of the Kanawha by another would completely 
cut off the whole brigade and capture it, for there 


was but one way of escape, southward down a 
narrow country road. 

When Gen. Floyd found that neither Gen. Lee 
nor any one else came down the pike he saw that his 
campaign must be a failure and was now reluctantly 
getting ready to return to the railroad, to be nearer 
his supplies. 

He had made his decision to do this none too 
soon, for the trap he had set for the Federals, they 
sprang on him. While Floyd was anxiously wait- 
ing for the move on Rosecrans, " Rosey" moved on 
Floyd. Two detachments of the Federal army 
crossed the river — one the New River, at Bowyer's 
Ferry; one the Kanawha, at Loop Creek — and 
each aimed to join their forces behind Floyd. 
They expected to bag the game easily, but the old 
general was too quick for them, and when they 
drew the mouth of the net together the birds had 
flown. Roger, however, wrote Helen a letter 
which tells the story better than I can: 

Camp Misery, Raleigh Co., Va., Nov., 1862. 
My Dear Helen : If old " Rosey " had been a little quicker in his 
movements, I don't think you would have had a letter from 
this place, which, as you see, I call Camp Misery — why, you 
will see as I write on. I must claim, however, the credit for 
the name, and I don't think the old general would let me go 
without a court-martial if he found I called it so disrespectfully. 
You know I told you that I was afraid the ranks would cross 


below us, and so they did. Late one afternoon an orderly came 
for papa to come to headquarters. As I am acting as his or- 
derly, I went with him. The old general sat there as quiet and 
as grim as ever. He said very calmly to papa, as if he did not 
know anything: "Colonel, you had best order in your pickets 
and have your wagons packed. I have decided to take a better 
position, nearer our base of supplies. See to it that all is done 
quietly and carefully." Just then a citizen came galloping up, 
and asked for the general. He seemed greatly excited. "The 
yankees are marching up the road from Loop Creek, two 
thousand strong," he said; "I saw them cross, and came in a 
gallop across the hills to let you knov>-." The old general smiled, 
a quiet smile, and said very kindly and calmly: "All right. 
Squire; we are ready for them; they are doing just what I 
hoped they would do." Then while he was hei-e another citi- 
zen came at full speed, and said: "General, them yanks has 
been a crossing all night at Bowyer's Ferry, and are marching 
this way." "That's all right, Mr. Hughes," said the general; 
" they will fall into the trap that I have set for them ; don't 30U 
be alarmed." I don't know that the old general told the truth; 
and between you and me I don't think he did; but he looked 
very much like he was saying what he thought was so. Well, 
we did not wait long. The wagons were loaded, the pickets 
from down at the ferry came galloping in, and the infantry was 
put in marching condition. We were to keep in the rear. The 
tents could not be carried, and some of the least valuable stores 
were put in front of them to be burned. The tents were left 
standing and fires built in front of them, and our battalion was 
distributed among them, so that it -vould look as if the army 
was here still; and as soon as it was dark the armj- began its 
"advance backward," as Jack says. The wagons had gone 
ahead, and the artillery had taken its position near the only road, 
which came from the south, to the pocket in which we were. 


After the infantrj- were off, we and Col. McCausIand's battalion 
came up behind. We fully expected to have a brush with the 
yanks at the road; but v.e passed it and were safe out of the 
trap by midnight. One of them, whom we captured, said that 
Gen. Benham had halted his troops just a mile from this road 
we crossed. Had our boys known that the yanks were only a 
mile from where they were, and that we would all have been 
captured or cut to pieces if we had remained till morning, I 
think thev would have grumbled less at this all-night march. 

Early in the morning Col. Craghan, who had charge of the 
Kentucky Dragoons, rode by us down the Loop Creek road. In 
a little while we heard firing, and the Dragoons came galloping 
back without their leader, who was killed. They were followed 
by a troop of yankee cavalry ; but our men opened fire on them 
■with their carbines, and they were checked, and when the two 
guns of our artillery sent their shells whizzing down the road 
they fell back to their infantry. We fully expected a battle, and 
the army was in line ; but strangely enough they did not advance, 
and we continued our retreat. The old general and his staff 
remained in the rear. The sick were in front; then came the 
■wagon train, and then the infantry and light artillery, and the 
cavalry came last. 

I had been all night in the saddle. So when the army halted 
as it did, and formed in line, as I wrote you, ready to give bat- 
tle, we were ordered to dismount and fight on foot. Poor Daisy 
had no breakfast, and poor master had a piece of Graham hoe- 
cake for his. We remained here all day fasting, and late in 
the afternoon, when our pickets reported that Gen. Benham had 
gone back and there was no enemy in sight, our infantry began 
its march again. We came marching last, only followed by the 
pioneers, ■vvho blocked up the road by cutting down great trees 
across it. At last we were ordered into camp. The wagon train 
could go no farther, for it was as dark as Egypt, We were at the 


foot of an immense hill, and there was not level ground enough 
to spread a blanket. We went up the hill — Lieut. Bacon, Serg. 
Jones, papa, and I — and found a place to sleep. Jack came to our 
help, and we made a hasty shelter. It was made of small sap- 
lings and brush, over which we spread our oilcloths, and was 
so fixed that one fork held all up. I was so tired and worn-out 
and sleepy that I could hardly wait for Jack to broil some beef 
and make some coffee, and then I threw myself under this shel- 
ter on my blanket, and was soon asleep. It so happened that I 
was near the supporting fork, and in the night I dreamed that a 
tree was falling on us, and crying out, "A tree is falling! a tree 
is falling!" I caught hold of and jerked down the fork, and 
the whole thing fell. They all scrambled out from the bushes, 
and just then such a rain fell as you never saw; but we built a 
huge log fire, dried our clothes, and sat by it till morning. 

Such roads! such roads! I saw a mudhole so deep that a 
man on a horse would have been swallowed up in it; but we 
pressed on, and just at dark we reached this camp. It is by the 
side of a wild mountain brook, and the mountains are on every 
side. We built large fires, cooked our rations, and laid down 
under what " flys " we had, and the next morning woke to find 
our blankets and tent flys covered with snow. 

Some one is going to Dublin, on the railroad, to-day ; and as 
I have a chance to send you this letter, I will wait no longer. 
How long we are going to stay here I cannot say, but I heard 
Gen. Wharton tell papa that it was likely that we would go back 
to the railroad at once, and that some of us would go to South 
Carolina and some to Kentucky. Tell mamma that we are all 
right, and that I liave occn a great sight of things to tell her 
about. Tell old Jack that young Jack says if " Mass Roger 
ever gits back to Libbaty and brings him back, he never wants 
to see nothin' higher dan a Salamander hill agin." He says 
"he's seed mountings nuff to last him a lifetime." Roger. 


The old general reluctantly gave up his cher- 
ished plan. He would gladly have wintered in 
this wild section, and have been ready to move 
down on the Kanawha Valley, resting only on the 
banks of the Ohio, but the tide was against him, 
and orders came from headquarters for Floyd's 
Brigade to report to Gen. Buckner at Fort Donel- 
son, in Kentucky, and for Lawson's Battalion of 
Georgia cavalry to report to Gen. Drayton at Har- 
deeville, S. C. Before these orders came the 
men had been paid off and they were anxious 
to send their money to their families, and as they 
had great confidence in Roger they asked that 
his father would permit him to take this money 
to them. As Roger was not needed specially, and 
as Gen. Floyd had no objection to giving him ? 
furlough, he was permitted to go to Georgia, and 
he started. His letter from Wytheville will tell of 
how narrow an escape he made from an unlooked- 
for danger: 

Wytheville, November 15, 1861. 
Dear Helen: I am here waiting for the train to take me to 
Georgia, and I will write you a line. The men of the battalion 
were paid their mone^' at Camp Misery, and as there was no 
way to get it to their families but by hand, they asked papa if 
I might not take it for them. Papa hesitated, for bringing 
$5,000 so far among so many dangers is not a pleasant thing; 
but they told him they could trust me, and that their families 
needed the money and there was no other way to get it to them 


and so papa ^vent to see Gen. Floyd and he told him that if he 
thought it best he would give me a furlough, and so I got my 
furlough. There was $5,000 in Charleston bank bills. Serg. 
Jones had a money belt which he loaned me, and I packed the 
money in it and bade good-bye to Camp Misery, and started out 
on my journey a few hours before dark. I was alone, but I 
joined a Virginia cavalryman who knew the country, and we 
rode about sunset some two or three miles off of the road to get a 
place to stay all night. We found a good place, where I had 
the first square meal I've had in a long time. The old fellow 
had buckwheat cakes and rye coffee, sweetened with maple su- 
gar — they call it tree sugar up here. lie had some beef ribs 
stewed and the nicest butter and milk. He was as clever as he 
could be, and his old wife was as motherly as mamma. I slept 
gloriously, and after a good breakfast next morning I rode with 
my friend back to the main road. Here he parted from me, as 
he was going back to camp, and I rode on alone. It was a 
pretty dreary ride, the ground was frozen, the air was keen, and 
the heavy forests were covered with sleet and ice. I was pull- 
ing away when I heard some one coming as fast as the bad 
roads would permit, when who should it be but Serg. Jones .^ He 
had his carbine and two navy pistols. When he saw me he 
halloed at me; and when he came up he said: "Well, my boy, 
I never was as glad to see any one in my life. I was afraid that 
I would never see you any more." 

" How now, Sergeant.^ " I said. " Did you think I'd run away 
with your money.'' " 

" No ; but last night Carson, from the Rifles, deserted and took 
his gun with him and followed your trail. Where have you been ? " 

" I went vvith Corporal Brent to old Squire Tuckweld's." 

"Well, thank God! That may have saved your life. The 
Colonel sent me posthaste after you, and said that I was to go 
with you to Princeton. The General said that you must not go 


as you intended, by Pack's Ferry to Dublin, but go to Prince- 
ton, and thence to Wytlieville. " Here, Jenkins," the Sergeant 
said to his attendant, " ride back to camp and tell them that 
Roger is all right." 

We got to Princeton, a little village hidden away in the 
mountains, and at night found quarters not far from it, and then 
began our journey over the Alleghanies to Wytheville. I 
thought that I had been in the mountains before, but now, as I 
started to go across them, I found what it meant to be in the 
wild Alleghanies sure enough. 

The Sergeant, who was to join the battalion at Dublin, was 
with me, so it was not so lonely as it would have been other- 
wise, and O the scenery was so grand! Ten thousand times 
ten thousand icicles hung from the green pines, and the sun- 
beams flashed from tree to tree, from mountain top to mountain 
top. We found comfortable quarters on the banks of Wolf 
Creek, at a farmer's home, and the next day about noon we 
came out into a cove in the mountain, and O what a lovely 
sight this little valley, with its beautiful brick house, was! We 
went to the gate, and they cheerfully took us in. The cove was 
called Crockett's Cove, and old Mr. Crockett lived in it. He 
has such a sweet wife, and O such charming daughters! You 
have no idea how good these Virginia farmers and their families 
are. They were just as kind to me as if I were their son, and 
although I was with them but a little while they seem as though 
they had known me all my life. You may know the Sergeant 
and I had a good time. We did not go on to Wytheville till the 
next day, and while I was Availing for the train the Sergeant, 
leading Daisy, went up toward Dublin, which is about forty 
miles from here. Here he expects to meet the battalion. I am 
coming home for a few days while the battalion is getting to 
its new field at Hardeeville, so you need not be surprised to see 
me at any time. Roger, 



tOGER was impatient to get home ; but al- 
though he was not delayed on the railroad, he 
had a half-dozen places at which to stop, and a 
number of people to see before he could hope to 
reach Savannah ; but he did his duty faithfully, and 
saw the money which had so nearly cost him his 
life safe in the hands of those to whom it was sent. 

Carson was last seen in a mountain srorge on 
New River. He had evidently intended to meet 
his unsuspecting young comrade, and, deluding 
him with a plausible tale, when he had reached an 
obscure spot he designed to murder him, secure 
the money, and escape. 

At last all the parcels except those intended for 
the members of the Liberty Troop had been dis- 
posed of, and Roger left Savannah on the Atlantic 
and Gulf road for Fleming. No one knew when he 
was coming, and no one came to meet him. As 
he left the train he met the good-natured old agent, 
Mr. Clark, and inquired about a conveyance. 

"Well, Capt. Roger," he said, "there hain't 


a sign of a critter on my place 'ceptin' old Beck. 
She is about thirty-five year old and is mighty true, 
but she's powerful slow. She'll take you thar if 
you give her time, but I tell you now she ain't a 
gwine to be pushed, but she is a heap better than 
walkin', and I'll have her brought out." 

Beck was a well-kept and very unpretending 
mule. Her long ears hung listlessly down, and 
her head was bent very humbly to the earth. Rog- 
er mounted, and Beck moved as she did in the 
plow, and had done for a score of years, with 
steady step and slow. Roger urged her forward 
with earnest words, but she heeded not. He 
struck her with the switch which he had in his 
hand, but it made no impression on her sensibili- 
ties; and at last, when all else had failed, the eager 
boy struck his sharp spur in old Beck's side. She 
winced, then stopped, and turned her head back 
with a look of blank amazement, and then moved 
forward, but she never changed her gait. " Well, 
old lady," said Roger, "you must go as you 
please, so as I can't get you to go my gait I'll go 
yours." It was a weary ride, but it ended at last. 
It was nightfall when old Beck stopped at the gate. 
Leaping from her back, the boy rushed into the 
house and threw himself into his mother's arms. 
She did not know when he was coming, but. she 


looked for him every hour, and was watching for 
him when he came. Helen was next, and then 
the negroes all crowded around him. He had 
been gone but a few months, but it seemed to 
those who loved him that it had been 3^ears. His 
mother's pale face told what she had been suffer- 
ing, and Helen was transformed into a real matron. 
Old Uncle Jack, of course, came to ask after 
young Jack, his hopeful son. " Yes, Uncle Jack, 
said Roger, "Jack has become quite a soldier. He 
likes soldiering, all but the marching and the fight- 
ing. He was in camp one day and a yankee bat- 
tery began to shell us, and when the shell came 
whistling into the camp I looked for Jack, but he 
was gone. He came back after the gun quit fir- 
ing, and I asked where he had been. ' Lor', 
Mars Roger,' he said, ' dat ting come right at 
me. It nebber tried to ketch nobody but me, and 
when I seed it a coming I heard it sa}^, " Run, nig- 
ger, run ! " and I runned, I did. I ain't afeard of 
no yankees, but I cain't bar to have a whole can- 
non just shootin' at me. I tell you I cain't.' He 
told me to give you a heap of howdy, and say that 
if he can get a furlough he will come home Christ- 

Roger sat by his mother's side, with her hand 
in his, like a lover. He would stroke her hair and 


kiss her fair brow as he did when a child. That 
was one reason I loved the bo3^ He knew his 
mother's worth, and loved her so tenderly. 

John Jones, the oldest son of the Sergeant, stayed 
at " Pine Lodge " at night, and took a kind of over- 
sight of the place, giving Helen such help in di- 
recting things as she needed. As for managing 
the hands. Uncle Jack did that better than any 
other one could ; the only trouble with him was 
that he was too hard on them. 

John was a devoted Methodist. He had been 
raised in a family where they had prayer night and 
morning, and when he came to spend the night at 
Mr. Lawson's he was not reluctant to keep up 
there the custom he had always followed at home. 
So they had family worship, which he conducted. 
The negroes came in; the Bible was read; the 
hymn was carefully lined and earnestly sung; and 
John prayed, if not learnedly, yet fervently. After 
he had prayed God to take care of the father and 
the son in the arm}^, and now when the boy was at 
home again, his voice faltered as he thanked God 
for his safe return. He prayed very earnestly that 
as Roger's life had been spared it should be de- 
voted to God's service. 

Roger went over the next day to see the Ser- 
geant's family, and to carry them the money that 


the Sergeant had sent to them, as well as the let- 
ter that he had written. The days went too rap- 
idly by. He saw the families of the troopers, and 
gave them the tidings from their loved ones. 

On Sunday at old Taylor's Creek meetinghouse 
Dr. Farmer was to preach the funeral of a young 
Stovall, who was killed at the first battle of Manas- 
sas. The Doctor was once a traveling preacher, 
then he located and studied medicine, and for 
many years he had been a physician and a plant- 
er. George Stovall he had known from his 
childhood. He had baptized him, he had received 
him into the Church, and when his body was 
brought home he had read the funeral service 
over his grave. In those days the funeral ser- 
mon was often preached months after the subr 
ject was dead. There was a great crowd of peo- 
ple, and a great many of them were young peo- 
ple. The Doctor took advantage of the occasion 
to preach a very earnest sermon to young people. 
He showed them that religion was suited to them ; 
that its very restraints were the sources of truest 
happiness; that there was no time in life in which 
religion could be more enjoyed than in youth, and 
at no time was piety more practicable. He warned 
them against the danger of delay. He spoke of 
young Stovall as one who had never given his fa- 


ther's heart a single pang, of how beautifully he 
lived, and of how grandly he died. 

There was much feeling among his hearers. 
Many came and gave him their hand, in token of 
a determination to take Jesus as their Saviour, and, 
to his mother's great joy, among them was Roger. 
The " Church door" (as the Methodists call the 
opportunity for candidates to present themselves 
for union with the Church) was opened, and Roger 
went forward. 

His Presbyterian mother looked on with a blank 
amazement, and yet her face was lit v/ith joy. 
When they came home, she said: "Well, my 
son, I am so glad that you joined the Church. I 
have often prayed God to make you a Christian, 
but I never prayed him to make you a Methodist." 
Perhaps Mrs. Lawson remembered that this was 
somewhat the same thing Mr. Spurgeon's mother 
told him. 

It had been no sudden impulse, for Roger had 
intended to unite with the Church and give his 
life to God's service for some time, and he was not 
willing to wait. He knew that the certificate of 
the Methodist Church would take him into the 
Presbyterian, which he thought it likely he would 
join Vv'hen he went back to Medway. 



1^ OGER had been at home only a few days when 
•*^^\ a letter from his father written from Dublin, 
Va., brought the news that the battalion was to re- 
port tcr Gen. Drayton at Hardeeville, S. C. He 
wrote Roger to join it there in about ten days. 

The days sped with rapid pace, and were soon 
gone. Roger went by railway, and found the bat- 
talion in a temporary camp on the sand hills be- 
3'ond the Savannah River, where the little village 
of Hardeeville was located. They were, however, 
to remain here onh'^ a few days, and were to camp 
at Bluff ton, fifteen miles below on the seacoast. 

The part of South Carolina where their camp 
was located was the oldest portion of the State. 
Near the camp was May River, on which the first 
settlements in the State had been made by the 
French three hundred years before, and here the 
English settlers had established themselves perma- 
nently two hundred years before. 

The islands on the coast had been famous for 

producing the most beautiful long staple cotton, 


and the rice plantations on the main were on all the 
rivers where the water was fresh. There had been 
a very large number of negroes on the plantations. 
For generations these people on the coast and the 
sea islands had lived in great luxury. The sea 
gave them the best fish and finest oysters. The 
marsh grass and the wire grass of the pine woods 
furnished them pasturage for their cattle, and the 
rice and corn produced on every plantation fur- 
nished them breadstuff. When the Federal navy 
swept down on Port Royal and captured it, the 
people along this coast were seized with a panic, 
and gathering up their slaves, and leaving behind 
all their property which could not be moved, they 
fled to the interior of Georgia and South Carolina. 
They had their residences in a few pleasant settle- 
ments, where they could have the advantage of 
churches and schools and health. Among the lit- 
tle hamlets which served for a summer home was 
Bluff ton, immediately on May River. It was a 
beautiful little village among the live oaks and 
pines. The steamers came triweekly to the wharf 
on their wa}^ from Charleston to Savannah, and 
thus brought the planters into close contact with 
the outer world. The little Episcopal and Meth- 
odist Churches furnished the inhabitants w^ith re- 
ligious services. Here, in an easy, quiet, inoffen- 


sive way the planters lived ; but when Port Royal 
fell they abandoned everything, and fled, and when 
Roger came to the camp he found the soldiers in 
beautiful homes, some furnished still with good 
furniture, which had been deserted by their panic- 
stricken owners. Libraries of books, mahogany 
cliairs, bureaus, and sofas were left for the ac- 
commodation of the troops. The Colonel quar- 
tered them in the vacated houses, and they began 
a season of camping out which was specially de- 

Roger had now taken his part in all the hard 
work of the common trooper. How he engaged his 
time, and some of his adventures, he can best tell 


Bluffton, S. C, December, iS6i. 

Dear Helen: If our camp in West Virginia was Camp Misery, 
this ouglit to be called Camp Paradise. You have no idea of 
the change. The rich people that used to live here took fright 
'when Beaufort and Port Royal fell, and fled to the upcountry. 
They left nearly everything behind them, and now, instead of 
being out in the cold on the mountains unsheltered, behold me 
in a lady's boudoir. The mahogany bureau stands as she left 
it. The bedstead and washstand are both here. The village 
was a deserted village sure enough, not a living being left in it 
when we came. Since then some fev/ have come back, but not 
to stay. 

Bluffton is what its name would lead you to suppose it was. 
It is a bluff on the river, with a wide stretch of pine lands back 
of it. How beautiful the river is here, and how beautiful and 


how charming are the islands which dot it, I cannot tell jou. 
We are here to picket the coast, and see that the janks don't 
cross over and cut the railroad between Savannah and Charles- 
ton. Bluffton is a good place to picket from. We lead the most 
luxurious lives. Lieut. Bacon has his dog and shotgun with him, 
and as he rides around to see after the posts he carries his gun, 
and brings back partridges every daj. Serg. Jones is a good 
fisherman, and such sheephead and trout as we do have! We 
have to di'ill every day — that is, those who are not on picket 
duty — but when the drill is over we have nothing to do, so we 
get out the boats and go rowing and fishing. Such fun we do 
have! The kinds of fish that I have seen and caught I could 
hardly count The sting ray is an awful fellow, with his diabol- 
ical look and long tail and awful barb, which he wears" just 
coming out of his back. This barb he sends into his victim, and 
it holds him like a fishhook. The other day I caught a shark 
two feet long, and carelessly put my fingers into his mouth to 
pull out my hook, and he caught me! I Avas caught for sure; 
but the Sergeant came to my rescue, and prized the shark's jaws 
open. He had bitten through my finger nail. 

I have had to take my time standing picket. There are four 
of us on each post; but it is awfully lonesome to stand on the 
river shore, and watch for two hours before you are relieved. 
We are looking for the gunboats every day, but they do not 

You remember when we were at Catherine's Island to have 
seen a school of porpoises. You know what a noise they make 
in the water. As they come rolling over and over, and splash- 
ing the water, they make a sound like a boat in motion. Some 
of our boys are from the mountains, and never saw a gunboat 
or a " porpus," as Jack calls them. They were on picket on 
the bluff. The moon was half full, and they could dimlv see 
from where thej' stood the river winding around the bend. 




They heard at midnight a sound they had never heard tlic like 
of before, and they saw the waters in motion. Thej- did not 
stand on the order of tiieir leaving. Firing their carl:)incs at 
the supposed enemy, they mounted their iiorses, and dashed 
back to camp. The bugler sounded " Saddles," and we were in 
short order dashing down the road to the bluff. There were 
neither yanks nor gunboats, but the sea pigs were haxing a 
big time in the river. 

We are having a jolly time, with enough work to do to keep 
us out of miscliief. Our chaplain comes to the camp every week 
and spends a few days with us. He has preaching and prayer 
meeting in the Methodist church, and we enjoy the services 
very much. 

Tell mamma that we got the box of good things, and we have 
royal dinners, and Jack is in his glory. Love to everybody. 
Tell Mrs. Jones that the Sergeant messes with us, and that he 
is getting to be real fat. 

Affectionately', Roger. 

Campaigning on the coast was a monotonous 
business. The videttes went to the posts in the 
evening and morning, and rode back again. The 
troops received the daily papers from Charleston 
and Savannah, and their mail every day. Some 
of them had their wives to come to the camp to 
see them. The Federals exchanged half-playful 
shots across the waters of the small bays with the 
videttes on the other side, but the bullets fell harm- 
lessly in the water. Roger was so much better 
acquainted with the state of things, however, that I 
will let him tell his story ; 


May River, May, iS&i. 

My Dear Helen: We have moved our camp. If you will get 
the map of South Carolina, and look to its lowest point below 
Savannah, you will see the point where we are. The place is 
called Box's. The old farmhouse, which is a hundred years 
old, has been vacated, and we have some of our troops housed 
in it. It is most beautifully located in a grove of oaks, and is 
surrounded on every side by salt water. At certain times of 
the tide we are on an island. Our videttes are distributed from 
this point to all the country around. There is not a soul near 
us except some old negroes on the Drayton and Pope places. 
These old places interest me very much. They are so old that 
I cannot but bring up the pictures of the wonderful changes which 
have passed over this section since they were settled; and vet, 
while the houses are old and the fields are old, and the negroes 
who were born here are old, there is very much of the country 
which is as Vv-ild as when the Indians were here. A few old 
men hang about their homes, but the larger part of the inhabi- 
tants are gone to the interior. There is not a lady nearer than 
Hardeeville, which is twenty miles away. There used to be 
some here evidently, for some dainty-looking shoes, which were 
once on a woman's foot, but were worn out long ago, are lying 
around. One of our boys got one the other day and made some 
tracks in the sand, and looked fondly at them. 

You know that Fort Pulaski has fallen. One of our posts is 
in full view of it, and by climbing upon the lower limbs of a 
live oak I had a good sight of the bombardment. I could see 
a long trail of smoke from the batteries of Gilmore as the shells 
moved on the effective work. I could see the smoke of our 
guns as they replied, and could hear the report across the wa- 
ter. All day long the guns were sounding. I did not think 
that the fort would fall; but the next day we could see that her 
guns were still, and then we had the news of her surrender. 
But I have written you a long letter. Love to everybody. 

Yours, Roger. 


The winter climate in this part of Soutli Caroli- 
na is really ravishing, and even the spring and 
early summer are quite pleasant. There were 
quite a number of refugees at the village where 
the railway station was, and the fair maidens used 
to visit the camp occasionally, much to Roger's 
enjoyment. Sometimes they dined with the offi- 
cers, and sometimes they made an evening party 
and brightened the camp with their merriment. 
Thus the summer wore away. The chaplain had 
good books which he gave the men, and there was 
prayer meeting and preaching every Sunday. 
Then there was the daily drill, and the picketing, 
and the constant care of the horses. The mail 
came every day, and finally Roger's enjoyment 
reached its height when his mother and Helen 
came to spend a month in the camp. The enemy 
made no movement. The battles were joined 
around Richmond, and the seven days' fight was 
over, and the order came for Drayton's Bri- 
gade to report at Richmond to Gen. Lee, and 
await orders ; and the most delightful episode of 
the war, to Roger, ended. Henceforth there was 
no holiday soldiering; it was stern work, and 
much of it. fc 



^^HE battalion of troops which was commanded 
^ by Col. Lawson was cavalry, but it was con- 
nected with a battalion of infantry and a company 
of artillery, and formed a legion. When the 
troops were ordered to Virginia it was decided 
that the infantry should be raised to a regiment 
and the legion dissolved, and Col. Lawson, who 
was second in command, was given the regiment, 
while the colonel was given a brigade. Roger 
was transferred from the troop and made a ser- 
geant major. It was to report at Richmond and 
await orders. The colonel of the regiment was 
entitled to forage for two horses, and so Daisy 
was taken along. 

The troops were packed in freight cars and 
transported to Richmond. There was little to in- 
terest in the wearisome travel to Richmond, but at 
last the city was reached, and the regiment 
marched six miles down the river to Chaffin's 
Bluff, where it went into camp. There was little 

to do in camp, so Roger was permitted to go to 



the city every cla3^ Richmond, whose fame is 
world-wide since it was the capital of the short- 
lived Confederacy, is an interesting place to visit, 
and Roger wrote Helen how it appeared to him in 
those late days of the summer of 1862: 

Chaffin's Bluff (near Richmond), August, 1862. ^ 
Drar Helen: We are here now in camp. Our camp is six 
miles below Richmond, on a high bluff on the James River. 
Drewrj's Bluff is just on the other side of the river, and batter- 
ies with heavy guns are planted in front of us. I think we are 
only here for a &hort time, and will soon be ordered to the 
front. You know I am no longer an orderly, but the sergeant - 
major of my regiment. The infantry I do not like quite as 
■\\ ell as I do the cavalry, but we are not so continuously in mo- 
tion, and as papa has two tiorses I have the full use of my 
pretty Daisy, and when my duties do not keep me in camp I 
take advantage of my privileges. I go to Richmond nearly 
every day. The ride along the James is an interesting one- 
some of the farmhouses, or country seats rather, are very 
handsome. We pass through a rather rough section of the^ 
city called " Rocketts," and then through what was evidently 
the old city, until Ave reach the capitol and the more aristocratic 
part of it. I was struck by nothing in Richmond so forcibly 
as by the beautiful statue of Washington, with the statues of 
the great men around the base. 

The city is full of soldiers. Brigadiers are so common that 
nobody notices their stars, and captains and lieutenants are no- 
bodies, and as for a poor sergeant major he is out of sight. I 
saw the President the other morning at St. Paul's Church with 
his wife and his little son and daughter. lie is a very gentle- 
manly, quiet-looking man who is a great deal less assuming 
than Corporal Sykes was when he got his new uniform. Mr. 



Benjamin, the Secretary of War, with his spectacles on his 
nose, is tlie very picture of Mr. Moses Cohen, whose store vou 
visit in Savannah. I went in last Sunday night to hear Dr. 
Duncan, the famous Methodist preacher. Mr. Davis goes there 
every Sunday night. Dr. Duncan is a stout, young, smooth- 
shaved, dignified-looking preacher, and his style is very easy- 
and graceful. He is very populai-, and his church is aiwavs 
crowded. I do not find our camp life a bad one, though we 
have right hard fare now. There is nothing but hard-tack and 
beef. The coffee has given out, and we have to put up with 
any substitute we can get. Sometimes we can get supplies from 
Richmond, but there are so many people there that we find it 
difficult and very expensive to get anything good to eat. We 
are very unsettled, and I expect my next letter will be from 
some place nearer the front. 

I begin now to see what war is. The hospitals are filled 
with sick and wounded men. The country around here is 
stripped of everything which makes a country agreeable, and 
there is nothing talked of now but news from the front. 

Affectionately, Roger. 

A few days after this letter was written Col. 
Lawson was ordered by Gen. Drayton to report 
to the quartermaster in Richmond, who would 
furnish transportation to Gordonsville. The horses 
were to be ridden through the country, and Roger 
was granted leave of absence from the regiment 
and permitted to make the three days' journey 
through the country on horseback. He wrote 
Helen when he reached Gordonsville : 


Dear Helen: I arrived here yesterday, after a most interest- 


ing ride from Richmond to this plnce, Avhere we are now in 
camp. The country around Richmond, after you leave the 
James River, is by no means fertile. I do not think it ever 
was. We went through Hanover County, and found ourselves, 
before night, in what are known as the " Slashes." Papa says 
Mr. Clay was born here, and was called the " mill boy of the 
slaslies." The country is very fiat and swampy, and the homes 
are old, and the farms worn out; and when I know that Patrick 
Henry and Henry Clay were both born here I don't think it 
takes good land to make good orators. We reached a nice, 
plain farmliouse in Louisa County by niglittime, and had good 
quarters. The next day we rode through a poor country, like 
that we had ridden through, till near noon, when we came into 
the most beautifid section and saw some of the most elegant 
farms I ever saw. AVe rode up to a handsome biick house, and 
asked for dinner. We were Avarmly received, and found our- 
selves in a most elegant and refined home. Dr. Pendleton was 
the name of our host, and he was a delightful host you may be 
sure. We had a grand dinner. It reallj' looked as if we were 
expected guests and elaljorate preparations had been made for 
us. We found good places to stop everywhere, and came, after 
three days of steady riding, to our regiment, which is camped 
in an old field here. There are quite a number of troops here, 
and they are evidently e;cpected to go somewhere, but where 
I cannot conjecture. I hope you are all ha\ing a good time at 
"Pine Lodge." I am so glad mamma has such a daughter as 
you are. If the good Lord brings us safe home again, we Avill 
try to show you how grateful we are. Love to everybody. 


The army was ordered to move very soon after 
Roi^er reached it. There was only time for rest, 
and to bring up the convalescent, when the order 


came to cook three days' rations and be ready to 

move at a moment's warning. Tlie seven days' 

fight had been over for near two months, and the 

Confederates, though much weakened by their 

losses, were now recruited and ready for another 

campaign. The Federals were now trying to reach 

Richmond by Fredericksburg, and were on the 

east side of the Rappahannock. Jackson had been 

moving on the enemy in the Valley, and had cleared 

it of his opponents, and now it w^as evident that 

the Confederate army was changing front so as to 

meet Burnside on the banks of the Rappahannock. 

The army is always in profound ignorance of what 

is designed, and at night, the day after Roger 

reached Gordonsville, it was put in motion to go 

it knew not w^here. Roger wrote Helen of this 

all-night march as soon as the army made a little 

halt, which it did near a small place called Ste- 

vensburg, where the army stopped for a day or 


Stevensburg, Va., August 5, 1862. 

My Dear Helen: We have had a long march and have just 
gone into camp here, not far from the Rappahannock, and 
Avhile we are resting I will write jou a line. 

We began our march from Gordonsville in the afternoon, 
and marched through as poor a country as vou ever saw. The 
march was all night long, and just at sunrise we reached the 
Rapidan River. There was no bridge, so I wondered how the 
soldiers were going to cross the ri\er when they reached it. I 


saw them plunge in, clothes and all, and come out dripping on 
the otlier side. They continued the march, wet as they were, 
and just as we reached the road which came down the other 
side of the river Gen. Jackson came marching by to take posi- 
tion on the heights below us. We were now in the forks of the 
Rapidan and Rappahannock, and went into camp about ten 
o'clock in the day. 

We were thoroughly tired, and rested all day, waiting for 
Burnside to cros^^ the river and attack us. 

The next morning I went out sauntering near the camp, and 
seeing a poor-looking house by the wayside, I went in. The 
family in it were the fussiest people I ever saw. The old man 
was fussv, his wife was fussy, and liis daughters were fussy, 
and they were at their best that morning. Some soldier had^ 
stolen the old man's horse, and the lamentation ^vas loud and 
long over the loss of his last "critter," as he called it. I told 
him he had better go at once to tlie general, the man who had 
the three stars on his collar, and tell him about it. He had just 
.gone in hot haste, when one of the girls of the fainih' came up 
and said: "O mam, they ha\e hung a man down thar by the 
spring." Sure enough, there was a poor fello^v, in a new Con- 
federate uniform, hanging by the neck dead. He was a spy, and 
had been caught with evidence that he was not only a spy, but 
that he had murdered an orderly, and the general sentenced 
him to be hung at once. 

The Fedei-als were just on the other side of the river, and we 
expected them to cross over and attack us every hour; but they 
went back to Fredericksburg, and are trying to reach Richmond 
again by way of Alexandria and Manassas. When Gen. Lee 
found that they were making that move he ordered us to march. 
W^e are here merely to rest a little while, and then 1 think we 
will move on toward Manassas. 

Later — La;t night the order came for the men to be ready 


to move at da3light, and at daylight the whole brigade was in 
column in the road and marched on toward the rixer. We 
filed out into a grove of large trees and formed a line of battle. 
The skirmishers were sent to the river bank, and directly we 
heard the rattle of their rifles, and then our cannon opened and 
the Federal battery replied. The firing was brisk, and the 
shells swept through the woods, over our heads, and tore down 
great branches from the trees, and now and then cut a trunk in 
two and fell in our midst. 

I tell you, Helen, there was no fun in lying there and taking a 
shelling. Now and then we heard a groan, and knew that some 
one was wounded. Our chaplain was called to see one of our 
soldiers whose leg had been torn off by a shell. The poor fel- 
low said he was "going to heaven," and asked the chaplain to 
pray for him, and he knelt there where the shells were flying 
and asked God to bless the dying man. 

We expected every moment for the _^ankee infantry to be 
on us; but they made no move, and after an artillery duel of 
about two hours the firing ceased and we went back to camp 
and rested the remainder of the day. 

At this camp I made my first effort at cooking for myself, 
and succeeded only tolerably. I made a dough of the fiour by 
mixing it with water in an old tin pan wliich belonged to one 
of the soldiers, and, as I had no frying pan nor oven, I dug a 
pit like a barbecue pit and laid some green sticks across that, 
and my dough on the frame, and then stuck mv bacon on a 
hickory stick and held it to the fire. As the grease oozed out 
I held it over the bread, and so accomplished several ends. 

I don't like war. I don't \\ant to hurt the yanks, and I don't 
want them to hurt me. I am sorry for the poor people along 
the march whose fences are burned and whose stock is all 
killed. Our own army does almost as much harm to those 
on the line of march as th3 enemys. War is more wasteful 

124 ^^^^' ^'-'^^ ^^ GRAY. 

and fearful than you can conceive of; but we are in it, and we 
must get out. Roger. 

P. S. — Dear Mamma: Don't be uneasy. God has taken good 
care of papa and me, and I hope we will both get back. Pray 
for us. 

Your loving Roger. 

The little artillery duel was merely a feint. 
Gen. Pope was massing his troops for a decisive 
battle at Manassas, and Gen. Lee was getting 
ready to meet him. The armies zigzagged through 
Culpeper, Prince William, and Fauquier, until at 
last they reached Bull Run again, where the second 
battle of Manassas was fought. 

It is not my purpose to write a history of the 
war, nor even of the campaigns in which Roger 
had a part, but merely to give a young fellow's 
adventures as he tells them himself. If my young 
readers want an authentic history of this cam.paign, 
they must search many books of war records to 
find it; and then if they find it as it really was, they 
will be more fortunate than I have ever been. I 
am sure the best intentions of an historian are not 
certain to lead him to a correct account of events 
when the relation of them comes from so many 
people who had different points of view, but I am 
sure Roger's story is just as correct as it claims to 
be. He wrote to " Pine Lodge" every opportunity, 
but he had no time for wrilinjr from the tmie he left 


Stevensburg till Monday, after the second battle 
of Manassas, and then he wrote to Helen and his 

Manassas, August, 1S62. 

Dear Helen : I haxe not ■written jou for near two -weeks. 
We have been incessantly on the march, and I can only snatch 
the time while we are bivouacking here to try and catch up. I 
■wrote you last from near a little village called Stevensburg. 
The next day after I wrote we were ordered to march. You 
know a soldier goes by faith. lie has to obey. He ne\'er knows 
Avhere he is going. lie does not even see his commander. The 
adjutant of the regiment gives me my orders, and I give them 
to the captains, and they give them to the orderlies, and we do 
what -we're told to do, and that's the end of it. 

ISIarching on foot and riding are very different things, and 
while I might ride now and then, I prefer to share with the 
men, and so I tramp along as they do. Poor fellows, many of 
them are barefooted, and it hurts me to see that they sometimes 
leave bloody prints on the ground as they walk; but they are 
the merriest crowd you ever saw. They have names for the 
soldiers from each of the different States, The Georgia troops 
are called "Goober Grabbers;" the North Carolina, "Tar 
Heels;" the South Carolina, " Sand Lappers;" the Arkansas, 
"Travelers;" the Florida, "Crackers," etc. If they see a fellow 
with a new hat, they yell at him: "Come out of that hat." 
They make fun of everything but religion, I never saw one, 
however bad he was, who wovdd not treat his chaplain re- 
spectfully. They will divide all thej' have with you, but I am 
sorry to say they are not remarkable for their honesty. One 
fellow stole my oilcloth the other day, and while our chaplain 
was praying with his eyes shut one of the reprobates stole his 

We trudge along sometimes very slowly behind our wagon 


trains, and of all wcaiisome things it is to march bcl.ind a hun- 
dred loaded wagons. Sometimes we take short cuts across the 
fields. The other day we were mo\ ing along across a field in 
which there was a small clump of woods. The Eleventh South 
Carolina had just reached the woods, A\hen I saw tlie first com- 
pany break in wild confusion, and with a jell they made haste 
and delayed not. They ran a little v/ay, and then some of them 
fell down and rolled oyer in the grass. The second company 
followed suit, and so did the third. " Hornets! hornets! " yelled 
the crowd, and our regiment made a detour rapidly and gave 
the spiteful fellows abundant room. 

You must know this constant tramping grows wearisome, 
especially when you don't know where you are going. Some 
parts of the country are very fertile, but the country generally 
is quite worn. We began to get near the mountains, and reached 
the railroad at a gap called Thoroughfare. Here I saw Gen. 
Lee for the first time during this campaign. You know I saw 
him first last year at Sewell Mountain, and then afterwards in 
South Carolina; but he has changed very much in looks since 
he has turned out his beard, and has a much older look and 
seems to be a stouter man than he was. He was very kind and 
courteous to every one, acknowledging my salute with a pleas- 
ant smile. 

We were placed in a railroad cut at Thoroughfare Gap, and 
had to take another shelling. The enemy's battery, however, 
could not reach us, and their shells exploded on the hills be- 
yond us. The only disaster to me was a piece of spent shell 
which fell right on my heart and which I picked up and put in 
my pocket. I gave it to a lady who li\'ed in a farmhouse near 
by, and who kindly had given me my supper. Papa bears up 
ver}' bravely and cheerfully. He is a great favorite with his 
men, and is especially kind to them. 

There Avas a right sharp little skirmish near the Gap, but it 


did not amount to a great deal. The yanks soorl saw that 
thej could not get through the Gap, and they drew off toward 

I do not think in all our marching we have ever had such a 
day as the day we left Thoroughfare. It looked as if man and 
beast would perish for water. There were no brooks, no rivers, 
no springs, and the wells Avere drawn dry; but about four o'clock 
in the afternoon we came to a spring, if such it might be called, 
in an old field. We had not been out of hearing of cannons for 
two weeks, and were used to it, and the fact that the yankee ar- 
tillery was blazing away at us did not at all disturb us. We 
were, however, arranged on the field by companies, and were 
preparing to fill our empty canteens when we heard the shriek 
of a shell as it fell right in our midst and exploded, leaving two 
men dead and two wounded. We soon saw that we were in range 
of a masked battei-y, and leaving our wounded men to the care 
of the surgeons and chaplain and ambulance corps, we left there 
in quick time. Recklessness and courage are, the soldiers say, 
different things, and the man who would foolishly expose him- 
self, or the general who would foolishly expose his brigade, are 
at as great a discount as cowards. We were sorry to leave our 
poor wounded men, but we were almost in rifie shot of the enemy. 

All that afternoon we could hear the yells of Jackson's men 
on our left and the huzzas of the Aanks. \\'ho was the victor.' 
This was the question. At last the dark came, and with it the 
news that old Jack was on top still. We lay on our arms all 
night, forbidden to speak above a whisper, and with the dawn- 
ing the guns opened again. We were in Longstreet's Corps, 
and were on the extreme right wing. We lay in an old field, 
just out of range of the shells; and while we could not see, v,-e 
could hear the roar of the guns, the yells and huzzas of the sol- 
diers, and see the white smoke of the cannon. I climbed up on 
top of an old house near our regiment, and with papa's glass I 


had a good view of the fignt. Gen. Lee and his staff \vere on 
a high hill to our left, where they could see the entire field. 
Away off to the left was Jackson's Corps. It was a long way 
from us, but I could see where it was posted, in a cut of the 
railroad just deep enough to give good protection. When I 
looked the battle was getting pretty hot, and I could see the 
line of Federals coming out of the wood and moving on Jack- 
son. Then the smoke from the rifles and the smoke from the 
cannon covered the field. When it blew away 1 saw that the 
blue line was broken and was retreating; but those brave yanks 
came again and again, and then our infantry seemed to me to 
cease firing, and the Federals swept on the works apparently 
unresisted. But just then two battalions of artillery came dash- 
ing at a full gallop up to the railway cut behind the silent in- 
fantry, and before I could tell you they had unlimbered, and 
the guns poured out volleys of shot and shell. I saw Gen. 
Longstreet just before this dash away from Gen. Lee at a full 
gallop, and at the head of an Alabama brigade, followed by the 
division, he dashed on the center of the Federals, and their left 
and center both gave way. I then saw the aid come galloping 
toward us and the long roll sounded. 

I was on the ground in a moment and at my place, and Ave 
were double-quicked to the field of battle; but when we were 
almost on the field the order came to "Halt! right about face, 
forward double-cjuick," and we came back to the jicld -I'c left. 
Somebody blundered. Gen. Dra^yton heard that the enemy 
were enfilading us and brought us back to find the enemy, and 
lo! they -vcre a company of our own troops. W^e could not now 
move rapidly, for we were completely done up, so we quietly 
marched back to the field again and moved steadily, but not on 
a run, up the hill to the extreme left of the Federals. The 
general of the division rode by us and told us to give the sol- 
diers in front a cheer, and wc did. 


To hear the whistle of the balls as thej swept by vou was 
not as fearful as the shriek of the shells, but more dangerous. 
As papa rode into the fields poor Whitej got a ball through the 
neck and fell, but with his sword in hand his rider pushed for- 
ward on foot. 

It was to me strangely dark. I could not think it was night- 
fall, but it was, and just as we entered the wood from which we 
were to move on the battery which we were to silence it be- 
came so dark that we could not see, and then came the com- 
mand to halt. We were so nigh the yanks that we could hear 
them talk, but we could not see ahead of us. The general 
thought if we attempted an advance we would fire into each 
other, and so we came out of the battle without firing a gun. 

Several of our men were wounded, but none were killed. 
Poor old Whitey is right badly hurt, but he may get well. 
Papa telegraphed mamma, to P'leming, and telegraphed Mr. 
Clark to send you the telegram. I will write again as soon as 
I get a moment to spare, but I must write to mamma now. 


Roger to his mother: 

Manassas, August, 1862. 

My Dear Mamma: My letter to Helen will tell you all about 
our doings for the last two weeks, and I only write toyou to tell 
you how much I love you, and how glad I am that God took 
such care of papa in the battle day before j'esterday. I did not 
relish the battle; but I was not so much afraid for myself as for 
him, and when I saw poor Whitey reel as the bullet struck him 
I was scared almost to death; but papa leaped from his back, 
and with his sword waving he urged the boys on as if nothing 
had occurred. 

I am so glad that you taught me to pray. If it had not been 
for that, I am afraid that I should not have escaped the dangers 
of camp life, and all the day of the great battle I found my heart 


rising to God in praj-cr. I am so glad tliat wc won the victory; 
but as I went o\er tlie field yesterday, I was so sorry for the 
suffering of our own folks and of the poor yanks that I could not 
rejoice in the victory won. The Federals sent a flag of truce, 
and Gen. Lee gave them full permission to go over the field and 
gather up the wounded. I did what I could. With some of the 
other boys, we searched for those who were most in need of 
help, and filled their canteens with water, and fixed them as 
comfortably as we could, and tried to cheer them. Our own 
wounded were gathered into the farmhouses all about, and 
many of them put in ambulances and sent to Warrenton. 

I hate war. I expect to be a true soldier, and to fight as well 
as I can ; but I hate war. 

The good Lord bless you all! Papa cannot write; he is too 
busy, for he is now in command of the brigade. He tells me to 
write, and sends a heartful of love. Roger. 



WHILE Roger and his father were at the front 
Mrs. Lawson and Helen were having no easy 
time at "Pine Lodge." The earnest efforts of 
Mr. William Jones, the overseer, who was past the 
age of conscription, had not relieved them entirely 
from anxiety. The chief care was the father and 
son, and then how to provide for all their slaves 
and of all their interest was indeed a trying ques- 
tion. The coast was so exposed that it was certain 
that the negroes would be forced away from the 
plantation, if they did not wish to leave, and it was 
as certain that many of them would run away to 
the yankees as soon as they could get a chance. 
The cattle and stock, with all the horses and mules, 
would fall a prey to the marauders who could land 
on the coast. 

So it was decided to move all that could be 
moved up to " Pine Lodge," and abandon for the 
time being the two plantations on Medway. There 
were houses to build, fields to open, and immediate 

needs to be supplied. There v/as a full crop of 



rice made in 1S61, and the large crop of potatoes 
and corn which Mr. Jones had made at "Pine 
Lodge ;" but it was necessary to live very closely. 
It was a struggle for subsistence. There was no 
money but Confederate money, and its purchasing 
power was not great. 

Capt. Lawson had an investment in the stock of 
the Rosevelt Cotton Factory, and received divi- 
dends in cotton thread and in cloth; and this, 
with the busy hands of the spinners and weavers, 
supplied the negroes with clothes. Sugar cane, 
peanuts, upland rice, potatoes, and peas were 
planted, and while the negroes missed their patches 
and had to submit to privations which were not at 
all agreeable to them, and while some of them ran 
away from the farm, the most of them remained, 
and very faithfully aided their mistress in her ex- 

Helen's letters to Roger will tell of how grandly 
the brave girl bore herself under it all: 

"Pine Lodge," August, 1862. 
]\ry Dear Roger: Yours from Stevensburg just received. 
Verily you are having a time. I hardly know where to catch 
you; but it may be that this will reach you, as it is sent by one 
of the Troop who has been at home on a furlough. 

Well, we are doing very well. After the fall of Fort Pulaski 
last April, we saw that our removal from the coast could not be 
long delayed, and so Mr. Jones sent up twenty of the men, and 


they went to work to build the cabins. Happily father had bought 
a small sawmill outfit, and Mr. Jones had it moved up here. 
We needed to clear a great deal of land to put at once in peas 
for the people, and so we cleared the land and got timber for 
the mill at the same time. We soon had the cabins ready, and 
Avhile there was a rest time we began to move everything but 
the growing rice to this place. We are now all pretty well 
moved, and until harvest we will be easy. We expect to send 
down a set of hands then to get in the rice; but their families 
will remain here. 

We are quite comfortable. I am wearing my old clothes. I 
made my first hat out of palmetto the other day. We make our 
sugar, as you know, and we get from the Rosevelt Mill a few 
bales of cotton yarn every month, which not only supplies our 
wants, but which we can trade for bacon and other supplies. We 
have about used up our coffee, except a little that we keep for 
the preacher and for sick folks; but we get along pretty well on 
potato coffee and ground pea chocolate. 

Don't you be worried about us. I have a beautiful suit of 
gray jeans just out of the loom for papa, and one for you, and 
you ought to see me in my brand new homespun. If you men 
will do your duty at the front, we will do ours at home. 

I still keep up my Sunday school, and enjoy my work very 
much. I believe God will take care of you both, and I am try- 
ing to do what I know he wills for me to do at hoine. Mamma 
keeps as well as could be expected, but this constant anxiety 
presses her much. 

God bless you, my dear, brave brother ! I love you more than 
I can tell. Love to dear papa. Helen. 



^i^HE stunning defeat of the Federal army only 
-'' seemed to inspire the determined North with 
a sterner resolution to conquer at all costs, and 
slowly and stubbornly the Army of the Potomac 
fell back to Washington. I doubt if the capture 
of Washington was ever seriously contemplated 
by the Confederates. The fact was, the South 
knew she could not conquer the North; she was 
only trying to keep the North from conquering 
her. Whether she was mistaken or not, as she 
surely was, the South believed that she was fight- 
ing for life, and she was determined no hostile 
foot should remain on her soil; and when Gen. 
Pope did not go back fast enough Gen. Lee 
pressed after him and drove him to the banks of 
the Potomac. We fought our last battle in this 
compaign in Virginia in sight of the church spires 
of Alexandria — the battle of Chantilty — and then 
began a movement on Maryland. Moving up the 
Potomac, we crossed in Loudon beyond Leesburg, 

and took our first rest at Frederick, in Maryland. 


Roger's letter to Helen gives us a full account of 
this march. 

Frederick, Md., September, 1862. 
My Dear Helen: We remained at the camp at Manassas only 
a Aay after I wrote, and then began our maixh up the Potomac, 
We came into Loudon County, a beautiful fertile country, in 
strange contrast with the desolate land we had left behind. 
We found in Loudon the most delightful people, who gave us 
genuine coffee, rich cream, golden butter, nice hams, and 
the other evidences of civilization. We were, however, on the 
move all the time. The other night in our march we had some 
real fun. Our chaplain, who is my great friend, is a young 
man full of life and activity. He bought a horse of uncertain 
age, after the battle of Manassas, whom he called " Old Rip." 
He made a pair of saddle pockets out of his knapsack, and 
stuffed a few clothes in them. He is always foraging for the 
rest of us. The other day he turned aside from the line of 
march and found where he could buy a chicken and some Irish 
potatoes. He prepared the chicken for the frying pan, and 
fried it himself as nicely as an inexperienced chaplain could, 
boiled the praties, and put the provisions in his haversack 
for papa and the others of our mess. When he reached us we 
were crossing Goose Creek. There was a temporary bridge 
over it for the infantry, but the horsemen had to foi-d. The 
ford was rough and rocky, and the horses plunged a good deal, 
but in went the daring chaplain. About the time he reached 
the deepest part Old Rip stepped on a stone and lost his footing 
and fell over on his side, and the poor chaplain went under 
head and ears. His knapsack saddlebags were soaked, and 
he was simply saturated. As he came out of the water John 
Baker in all sincerity called out: " Parson, are you wet.'" The 
chaplain told him he thought so. There happened to be a fire 

136 THli BOY IN GRAY. 

near by, and he dried his dainn garments and went on his way. 
When we got to the Potomac I noticed that he waded across 
like the rest of us and let another man ride Old Rip. 

When we had crossed the Potomac we were in Maryland. 
The Mary landers, like the Virginians, are very warm in their 
Southern sympathies, and treated us very kindly. The Sun- 
day bells were ringing when we pitched our camp in sight of 
the good old city of Frederick. Here we are to stay some days. 
I don't think Gen. Pope, wliose headquarters are in the saddle, 
will be after us till he gets over the drubbing we gave him in 
Virginia. These Frederick people are mightily mixed: some 
of them very ardent Southerners, and some of them as ardent 
Unionists. I was really sorry for an old fellow who sold out 
his wliole hardware stock for Confederate money, which cer- 
tainly can't do him any good in buying a new supply of mer- 
chandise. I went to church Sunday afternoon; but the preach- 
er was evidently scared at so many soldiers, for he did not 
j)reach. I found some very kind people here, and was very 
glad that nobody. Unionist or rebel, was molested by our peo- 
ple, but all was quiet and orderly. 

I will write again as soon as I can. Roger. 

The army moved on from Frederick; but much 
to Roger's after surprise, there were ninety thou- 
sand Federals just behind it. The next letter of 
Roger's was some two weeks afterwards, and was 

from Virginia: 

Warrenton, Va., September 20, 1862. 
My Dear Sister: Papa has telegraphed to you that I was 
wounded at South Mountain, but that I was not at all in any 
danger, and I hope your anxiety is at an end. We left Fred- 
erick and marched through a beautiful country and made our 
grand entric into Hagerstown, four miles from the Pennsylvania 

Maryland! my Maryland! 137 

line. We had no idea there -were any yanks nearer than 
Washington Citj except a few cavalrymen who were skirmishing 
all the time with our boys; but we had scarcely got rested from 
our march before the command to march came, and we went 
down the same road we came up. As ^ve marched we could 
hear the constant rattle of musketry and the boom of guns. 
We'reached the foot of the South ISIountain and saw Gen. Lee 
and Gen. Longstreet and Gen. Jones all together, and we 
marched on and took our place at the top of the mountain be- 
hind a stone wall. The cannons were shooting over our heads 
at some advancing Federals, v.hom we could not see. At 
length we were ordered forward, and as we crossed another 
stone fence and went into a wood, the bullets whizzed about us 
very sharply and one struck me on the neck^ but just scratched 
me. We were firing as rapidly as we could at the enemy in our 
front, when I saw a man running to papa, Avho was command- 
ing the regiment, and I saw him look around in alarm. We 
were enfiladed, and the enemy was just about to surround us 
entirely. Papa gave the order to retire, and we did so not a 
moment too soon, for they were nearly all around us. We en- 
tered the wood we had left, and were preparing to rally on the 
stone wall, when I felt a deadness in my left leg and fell to the 
ground. I thought my leg was torn off, but I looked and saw 
it was there still. Some of the boys put me on a stretcher and 
then in an ambulance. Poor papa came to me and saw how I 
was hurt, and said: "All right, boy, keep a brave heart. You 
shall have a furlough now." Well, I suffered a little, but not 
as much as many. The surgeon bandaged my leg as best he 
could and sent me in an ambulance with sevei-al others to the 
hospital here. I can't walk nor use a crutch yet, but I am get- 
ting along very well indeed. Miss Berta Phillips, a nice young 
lady, is going to take me to her home as soon as the doctor w ill 
let me go. I know there has been a battle at Sharpsburg since 


I left the army, and I hope dear papa has come out safely. I 
know you has^e all heard ere this. 

Give a great deal of love to everybody. 

Affectionately, Roger. 

The battle of Sharpsburg was fought on Wednes- 
day after the battle of South Mountain on Sunday. 
Col. Lawson led his regiment so gallantly that he 
was promoted to a brigadier general, and yet es- 
caped without a serious wound. 


"yank" and "johnny" in the same hospital. 

W^fHlLE Roger was in the hospital at Warren- 
" ton a young Federal officer, who had been 
wounded in a cavalry fight at Brandy, and left in 
our lines, was brought to it. He had his elbow 
bone shivered by a pistol shot, and as the bullet 
plowed its way through the muscles of his arm 
it lacerated them badly, and made a very ugly 
wound. He and Roger soon became good friends. 
They were the same age, and had many experi- 
ences in common. 

The young Federal was the son of a former Con- 
gressman from Connecticut, a Judge Bingham. 
In spite of his wound he was uniformly cheerful. 
But one morning when the surgeon looked at his 
wound his face grew serious. He saw a little 
speck of green which told of the deadly gangrene. 
The boy must be removed from the hospital, or 
death would likely come into it. He told Roger 
this, and Roger set to work to save his companion. 

Miss Berta Phillips was to come for him that morn- 



ing; but he resolved that he would not go, or 
Bingham should go with him. 

Miss Berta's bright face came beaming to the 
door: " I want my soldier boy." 

" But I am not going." 


" Because I want you to take somebody else. I 
am doing as well as I can do ; but there is a little 
3^ank here who will die if somebody don't take 
him out from this place, and you must take him." 

" Me take a yankee? No, sir! " 

"Yes you will. You just see him, and you'll 
take him." 

" Well, I won't see him." 

" Yes you will." 

" But I won't." 

"Yes you will. Just listen: lie has a good, 
sweet mother, and a pretty sister, and a good old 
father, and they are Presbyterians like you are, 
and he'll die if he don't get away." 

"Well, can't I take you too?" 

"Yes, I reckon so; but you must take him if 
you do." 

" Well, I won't; but you may." 

So Lieut. Bingham went with Roger to the de- 
lightful home of the Phillips family, where the 
comforts of life and tender watching of kind 



friends soon expelled the poison from his veins. 
But Roger must tell about the mieetin«-: 

Phillips House, Warkenton, Va., October, 1S61. 

Dear Helen : I am now in the sweetest old home in Virginia, 
the old Phillips mansion. Miss Berta came for me and brought 
me here, and with me brought inj friend, and who do vou 
reckon that friend is? A Connecticut jankee, a Federal lieu- 
tenant. Poor fellow! he got a terrible wound in his arm, and 
will never use it well again. He fell into our hands, and is a 
prisoner. He is a jolly, clever fellow, and as he and I were in 
the same ward in the hospital, we became good friends. He 
calls me -Johnny," and I call him "Yank." He can only use 
one hand, and I can only vise one leg. So he helps me and I 
help him. He showed me his mother's picture, and his sister's 
too. His father used to be in Congress with Mr. Stephens, and 
has been a judge in his State. I think that they are rich people, 
and from what he says I am sure that they are very refined. 

I am so glad that dear papa escaped, and I hear that he is 
recommended for a brigadier general's commission. I know 
that he deserves it, and I am sure that he will get it. 

I am going to get a furlough soon, and if I can I am goin-^ 
to bring " Yank" with me. Roger. 

Sure enough Roger got his furlough , and through 
Mr. Stephens's influence Lieut. Bingham got a pa- 
role. He was permitted to go to Liberty County, 
in Georgia, and remain there till he was exchanged. 
I am glad to tell of this, for young folks are apt to 
think that where there is hard fighting there must 
be personal hate; but they are much mistaken. 
The Federals and Confederates never hated each 


Other, and the soldiers of either side were always 
willing to help each other, and no people were more 
rejoiced when the war ended than those who 
fought it through. But I have some letters of the 
lieutenant's, in which he tells the story for him- 

"Pine Lodge," Liberty Co., Ga., October, 1S62. 
Hon. John H. Bingham, Binghamton, Conu. 

My Honored Fatho- : You have heard from me before doubt- 
less, as I sent my letter through the lines just after I was caji- 
tured. I am now at Gen. Lawson's, in Liberty County, Ga., on 
parole. As soon as I can be exchanged I will come home. I re- 
ceived the £20 bill of exchange before I left, and cashed it, and 
so am supplied with funds. Thank you. With love to all and 
high respect, I am 

Yours, John H. Bingham, Jr. 

To his sister: 

" Pine Lodge," Liberty County, Ga., November, 1S62. 

My Dear Clara: Such a series of adventures as I have had. 
It would be a real novel if it was written out. You see at Bran- 
dy, as we were making a charge, a Confed for whom I was 
going with my saber sent a pistol bullet through my bridle arm. 
My horse got away with me, and the first thing I knew I was 
in the midst of a battalion of Confederate cavalry. Of course 
I surrendered, and they were verj- kind to me. The surgeon 
bound up my wound and put me in the ambulance and sent me 
to Warrenton to the hospital. In the same ward with me was 
a young rebel. He is about my age and is as jolly as he can be. 
He and I struck up quite a friendship. 

" Well, Yank," he said, " let's be partners. You've got no 
arm, and I have got no leg. You walk for me, and I'll cut for 


"Agreed," I said, "Johnny, we'll shake on that, only I can't 
shake much now;" and so we "affiliated," as old Dr. Stiles used 
to say. 

Well, we just told all about things at home. He has a smart 
sister, he says, and a good mother, and so have I. I like to 
have had to pass in my checks, for I was threatened with hospital 
gangrene, but Johnnie got me out of the hospital into a nice 
home, and Mr. Stephens got me a parole from the war ofiice, so 
I did not have to go to Libby. And then Johnny said I must 
come home with him, and I got a permit to do it, and I am here. 

You never saw anything like this delightful pine woods 
home. It is delightful now in November. The sky is so blue, 
the air is so balmy, and the woods are filled with flowers. I 
counted twenty-five different kinds yesterday. The family are 
Mrs. Lawson, a sweet lady about mother's age, and ISIiss Helen, 
who is older than you. I tell you she's a team. Talk about 
you yankee girls, she can beat you so far you can't see. There 
are two hundred and fifty negroes here to be fed and clothed 
and managed, and she is the head of all. True, she has an ex- 
cellent manager and a faithful driver, but after all she is queen. 
I don't think she likes me much, because I am a yankee sol- 
dier, but I can't blame her for that. She treats me very kindly 
despite that. I hear I am to be exchanged next week, and I 
will come to Binghamton in a hurry. 

Your brother John II., Jr. 

Roger's letter to his father tells how things were 
at "Pine Lodge:" 

" Pine Lodge," November, 1S62. 

My Dear Papa: Jack came to us in good time. I am sorry 

he had to leave you, but I do not know how we could have done 

without him. Yank and I left Warrenton a Aveek ago. His 

arm was still pretty bad, but the doctor thought that it was best 



for him to get to a milder climate, and he said I would be better 
off also. 

The Phillipses were very kind to the last, and they furnished 
us with a good supply of nice things for our luncheons along 
the way. We came by Richmond. We had to change cars 
quite often ; but Jack almost carried me in his arms, and without 
serious delay we reached Fleming. Helen had come to meet 
us, and she looked radiant in her new homespun and with her 
palmetto hat. She looked a little askance at poor Yank, but he 
was so pleasant he soon made a good friend of her. We came 
in good time to " Pine Lodge," and found mother waiting for 
us. Old Jack met us and T>Iamm3- came as fast as the poor 
old soul could, and Yank's eyes opened when she threw her 
arms around me and cried like a baby. 

I was not hurt by the trip at all, and have been improving 
every day. So has Yank. He had a letter from his father 
through the lines, sent through commissioners for the exchange 
of prisoners, inclosing him a £20 Bank of England note, which 
he turned into Confederate money at Richmond, so his wants 
were supplied. He is very much interested and pleased with 
what he sees. He is a nice fellow, and while I can't make him 
see that we are right, and don't try very hard, he sees in how 
many things he has been mistaught. The negroes, especially 
the little fellows in the quarters, keep him continually amused. 
I will be sorry when he goes, as he says he must next Avcek. He 
is to report at Savannah and be exchanged at Port Royal. 

Things are going about as Avell as we could hope for. Mr. 
Jones has managed admirably. He has moved all the negro 
families from Medway and " Lawson Place," and keeps there 
only a gang of hands who are harvesting the rice. We made a 
pretty good crop, which Mr. Harris writes us is already sold to 
the government. We are having it shipped as fast as it can be 
brought to Fleming. 


Mamma is quite well, as 3011 see from her letter. I am get- 
ting along only middling. The bone which was broken was 
splintered a little, and the wound does not heal rapidly. I can 
only get about with my crutches I am very thankful that it 
it is as well with me though, you may be sure. I am glad to 
hear you have the three stars and are now a general. I hope 
you will give me a place on your staff. 

Ever affectionately, Roger. 

The winter came, and the battle of Fredericks- 
burg was fought, but Roger could not get back to 
the army in time to engage in it. He, however, 
continued to improve, and in February he was en- 
abled to report for duty, and received this pleas- 
ant communication from the war office: 

War Office. 

Serg. Maj. Lawson, of the Seventy-fifth Regiment, Georgia 
troops, is hereby promoted for gallantry on the field, and is com- 
missioned as Second Lieut., C. S. A. He will report for duty 
to Brig. Gen, Lawson, Jones's Division, Longstreet's Corps, A. 
N. V. A. R. Tape, A. A. A. G. 


Lieut. Roger Lawson is hereby assigned for staff duty on the 
staff of Brig. Gen. Lawson, Army Northern Virginia. 

A. R. Tape, A. A. A. G. 

So he returned to the army and began his work 

in the early spring. 



^^HE flowers were blooming when Roger left 
^ " Pine Lodge " for Virginia; the snow was on 
the ground when he reached the camp at Guineas 
Station. There was no fighting, save a little skir- 
mishing now and then. The attention of the enemy- 
was turned to Vicksburg and the western army, and 
Gen. Lee was having a little rest. 

Roger found himself in a new position, and was 
able to write home very often. Some of his letters 
give a picture of a camp in winter quarters. They 
had pitched their camp in a wood, where they could 
get shelter and fuel, and whiled away the time as 
profitably and as pleasantly as they could. The 
victory at Marye Heights, near Fredericksburg, in 
December had been purchased at no small cost 
of men, and the new recruits who came in were be- 
ing drilled as diligently as possible to take the places 
of the missing. Save to keep everything in trim for 
the movements in the spring, neither Federals nor 

Confederates were doing much. The officers who 


could be spared were on furlough, and Gen. Law- 
son had gone to Liberty for a two weeks' stay. 
Roger wrote them all in writing to Helen: 

Camp Lee, January, 1863. 

My Dear Helen: I knew that I ought not to stay at home any 
longer, but it was a great trial for me to leave you all. I had 
spent so many pleasant hours at " Pine Lodge " that it was hard 
for me to tear myself away. 

The more I see of war, the more I hate it. When will peo- 
ple learn to settle their difiiculties like Christians.? As we are 
in it, we must go through with it, and I must try and do my 

I reached here safely, just stopping long enough in Rich- 
mond to order me a lieutenant's dress uniform, which only cost 
me a thousand dollars. I don't expect to use it a great deal. I 
reported at headquarters. Our brigade headquarters are in an 
old house overlooking the wood where the brigade is camped. 
It is comfortable enough for old soldiers, as we are getting to 
be. Our fare is not the most elegant; but Jack is not a bad 
forager, and we get along pretty Avell. The troops are busy 
di-illing and attending carefully to camp routine. We have our 
dress parades every evening, and sometimes our camp is enliv- 
ened by the faces of the wives of some of the officers of the Vir- 
ginia soldiers. All kinds of fun is kept agoing. We have games 
of ball and racing, and music of all kinds, from the old time fiddle 
to the modern band. Vv''henever we have a snow there is a regu- 
lar snow battle. The troops are drawn up in regular line. They 
establish batteries, put out skirmishers, and have regular fusil- 
lades. The victors roll the conquered in the snow. But the thing 
that I most enjoy is the revival. We have preaching every night. 
Some of the best men of all the Churches preach for us. We 
have a Y. M. C. A., and I joined it as soon as I returned. We 


have regular camp meeting times. Mr. Lester, the Chaplain of 
the Third Georgia; Mr. Jarrell, of the Eighteenth Georgia; Mr. 
Dodge and Mr. Thigpen, of Colquitt's Brigade, are some of our 
Methodist chaplains; and Messrs. Curry and MacCallum are 
Baptists. Bishop Pierce came to see his son, and spent several 
days in camp; and Bishop Elliot, of the Episcopal Church, gave 
us a glorious sermon. Then we have old Dr. Stiles and Dr. 
Hoge, of the Presbyterian Church; and Dr. Jeter and Dr. Jones, 
of the Baptist Church; and a host of others. They have glori- 
ous singing in the meetings, and some are converted at every 
service, and the Church doors are opened, and the soldiers say 
■what Church they wish to belong to. 

Of course there is a great deal of wickedness in camp. Many 
of our officers and men are very bad; but there is a great deal 
of good. Our grand old general is always at service, and no 
one ever thinks of his doing anything which one ought not to 
do. As to old Jack, we all know how good he is. Gen. Colquitt 
talks to his men and prays for them like a preacher, and Gen. 
Gordon is always ready to help in the meetings. 

I know that it is right hard to be good in camp. li is so hard 
to find a place to pray ; but I am glad that my tent mate, who is 
an Episcopalian — Maj. Lanford — prays night and morning. He 
tries to live right, though he will say bad words sometimes when 
he gets fretted. He says that he means no harm by it, though. 

We have a capital set of fellows on our staff. Maj. Middle- 
ton, our quartermaster, is from an old South Carolina family, 
and is a man of fine education and excellent mind. He is the 
jolliest fellow in the world — always in a good humor. He has 
taken quite a fancy for me, and laughs at me for being a Meth- 
odist; but I know that he is glad that I don't drink or gamble. 

But I have little to Avrite now. Love to all. Roger. 

There are few things more monotonous than the 
life of the camp when there is no enemy near, and 


the early days of 1863 were uneventful and weari- 
some. The Federals were getting in new recruits, 
and the conscripting of the whole South was send- 
ing new men into the army to be made ready for 
service. It became evident to even the common 
soldier as May drew on that there was something 
about to happen of serious kind; and so there was, 
for the battle of Chancellorsville was fought. The 
Confederates won the batde ; but at what a fearful 
cost ! for Stonewall Jackson was killed, alas ! by his 
own men, through a fearful mistake. The brigade 
to which Roger belonged, which had been so fear- 
fully cut up at the fight in December, was not 
brought into this action, and he had little to write 
except concerning the sad event which so dis- 
tressed the whole South: 

Camp Lee, May, 1S62. 

My Dear Helen: Yovi have heard the sad news. Gen. Jack- 
son is dead ! You cannot imagine the shadow that it has thrown 
over the whole armj. Dear old "Jack," as we used to call him, 
so quiet and calm and determined, so courteous to everybody, 
so pious, so brave. • It would have been sad enough for him to 
have been killed leading his own corps to battle, but to fall by 
a shot from one who would have died for him was too sad. 
Gen. Lee, always so calm, has an air of deep grief which is inde- 
scribable. The victory that we have won is not a victory, now 
that Jackson is dead. 

We are getting ready now for a move northward. Of course 
•we do not know where Ave are going, but from the nature of the 
preparation and the massing of the troops, I think that Ave are 


going to take the offensive, and I would not be at all surprised 
if we find ourselves in Pennsylvania before the campaign ends. 
Gen. Lee is anxious to end this thing. 

Mr, Lincoln, jou know, has issued his proclamation, and the 
negroes are as free as he can make them, and we are now as 
strong as we will ever be. If old Jack Avere at the head of his 
corps, I wovild not be troubled; but alas! he is not there, and 
there is no one to take his place. We have just received or- 
ders to move, and I do not know when I can write jou again. 


It was a long time before he did write again. 
Gen. Lee did advance, as he supposed that he 
would. The battle of Gett3^sburg was fought, and 
among the wounded and missing as reported in 
the lists was Lieut. Roger Lawson, A. A. G., of 
Lawson's Brigade. 



■p HAVE never been able to read without a shud- 
* der the story of Gettysburg, and those who 
wish to hear of the terrible events of those awful 
days must go elsewhere to find them told than to 
these pages. I only know that when the few came 
back from that daring and magnificent but fatal 
charge on the second day, when the hundred 
guns poured out their volleys of shot and shell, 
Roger Lawson was not one of them; and 
when Brig. Gen. Lawson gathered up the rem- 
nants of his brigade for the retreat to IMaryland 
he had to leave his own son behind. A flag of 
truce, however, brought him the news that Roger, 
with a shattered arm, was a prisoner; that his 
wound, though serious, was not mortal. Gen. 
Lawson himself had his horse shot under him and 
received a slight wound, or what appeared then to 
be a slight one, in his chest, but was not so disabled 
as not to be able to handle his brigade. He wrote 

to his wife: 

Near Gettysburg, Julj, 1863. 

My Dear Wife: The most fearful battle of the war is over. 

You have heard the story. I have no heart to sav more. I 



only know Gen. Lee said, "Charge the guns;" and we went 
for them. The men never behaved better, and our boy swept 
over the field as long as it was possible for a man to sit on 
his horse, as calmly as he ever led a chase at home. As we 
climbed the heights it was no longer possible to remain on 
horseback, and he leaped from the saddle, and sword in hand 
led the men toward the guns. I lost sight of him in the ter- 
rible struggle. We broke through the line, we captured the 
guns, but before we could make our victory sure the Federal 
reserve came on, and a new battery poured a deadly fire upon 
us, and the order came to retire. I did not know what had be- 
come of my boy, save that Capt. Barclay said he saw him fall, 
until this morning, when I received this note by flag of truce: 

Hospital Camp, U. S A. 

Gen. La-vson: Your son, Lieut. Lawson, is in our hands and 
under my care in the hospital. He begs me to say he is not 
mortally wounded; his right arm is shattered and he may lose 
it, but his life is safe. He will recei\ e all the care we can pos- 
sibly give him. 

Yours, Thomas McLean, Assf. Sur. U. S. A. 

I telegraphed you that he was wounded and a prisoner, but 
safe. I am expecting every moment for the brigade to move 
southward, but I can send this by one of the cavalry who is go- 
ing to Virginia to-night. Roger Lawson. 

Roger was removed to the hospital in the little 

city of Gettysburg. There was no hope for his 

right arm, which had been almost cut off by a 

shell, and it was decided to amputate it at once. 

His first letter was to his mother and was written by 

an amanuensis: 

Gettysburg Hospital, July, 1863. 
My Darling Mother : As you see, my handwriting is im- 
proved. The fact is I have got into the good graces of a nice 


little Pennsylvania maiden, and she is writing for me. I am 
glad I am able to dictate a letter, for I tell you it looked once 
like I never would write or speak again. Before I went into bat- 
tle I raised my heart to God, and as we went into that storm of 
shot and shell I knew no more until I fell. The brigade was 
repulsed. I lay on the field for several houi-s. Some kind Fed- 
eral going over the battlefield saw me unable to move, for my 
old wound had left my leg so weak that in trying to mount the 
heights, just as the shot struck my arm I fell and sprained my 
ankle ; they took me in their arms and carried me to a camp fire, 
where one of them gave me some coffee and some hard-tack. I 
had eaten nothing all day, and when I took the coffee and bread 
I was refreshed. By this time the ambulance corps was com- 
ing nigh, and one, an honest-looking "Buckeye," said: "Say, 
lieutenant, you have a gold watch, I see. If you go to the hospital 
with it on, it is likely you'll never see it again. Now give it to 
me, and give me your name and address, and I will take care 
of it for you and send it home to your folks as soon as I get a 
chance."* The fellow looked so that I did not care to 
help myself if I could, and I could not if I would, so I handed 
it over. Maybe you'll get it or hear of it; likely not. 

Well, mamma, don't be troubled about me. I am all right. 
The doctor cut off my arm just above the elbow, but he says I 
am doing splendidly. God has been very good to me, and 
these good people of the Christian Commission are kind and 
considerate. I do not know where I'll go after I leave here, 
but I am likely to stay here some time yet. I know I can't go 
anywhere that your prayers won't follow me and God will not 
be near me. 

I see in the daily papers that my old friend Bingham was dis- 
tinguished for his gallantry, and has been promoted to a 
captaincy. I am glad to hear of it. God bless you. 

Ever your boy, Roger. 

-■And he did. The watch came safely as soon as communication was 



^jtf^HE sprained ankle kept Roger in bed, as the 
^ severed arm necessarily kept him in his ward. 
Many people came to the hospital. They came 
from all sections x>i the North, and of course 
Roger had all kinds of visitors. Of these some 
were very agreeable, and some otherwise. 

The persistence with which the people of the 
United States have misunderstood and misrepre- 
sented each other is certainl}^ a strange fact in our 
history, and nothing is more unwelcome to either 
section than a true story of the character of the 
people of the opposition. Now I am sure that, 
Southern born as I am, and Southern bred, and 
with nearly all my readers in the South, I should 
gratify many of them much more than I will if I 
were to say that all Northern people were unscru- 
pulous, malignant, cruel, and all Southerners 
were generous, forgiving, tender. I am sure that 
those people who look upon " Uncle Tom's Cab- 
in " as authentic history will not be apt to accept 

such an account as this of Helen and Roger as a 



true one. Well, I can't help that; I know the 
mass of the Northern people were honest in their 
belief that they were fighting for liberty, and many 
of them kindly in their feelings toward their mis- 
guided foes of the South; and I know that just 
such people as Roger and Helen were found now 
and then in all the South, but if I were to leave 
the impression that there were no other kind of 
folks, North or South, I certainly would mislead; 
and Roger found this to be true, much to his an- 

The Federal army was well provided with every- 
thing, and no two parts of its equipment were more 
valuable and praiseworthy than the Christian and 
sanitar}^ commissions. The battle of Gettysburg 
was no sooner over than both were on the ground, 
and in providing for the wounded they knew no 
distinction of uniforms; blue and gray were alike 
objects of care. The good women of Gettysburg 
were, as good women are everywhere, full of 
kindly sympathies, and a genial old maid took 
Roger, rebel as he was, under her especial care. 
She wrote his letters for him, brought him books 
to read, and prepared nice dishes for him. She 
came to see him every day. She was a great 
Unionist, but she took her "wicked rebel," as 
she called Roger, under her careful charge; but 


there were other visitors who did not look so kind- 
ly on him. They came to his cot, and when they 
found out he was a rebel they looked as if some 
awful wrong had been done them by the govern- 
ment taking care of him at all, and hurried on. 
It was not often they said an3^thing, but one day a 
very smooth, oil}^ quick-spoken visitor from Mas- 
sachusetts came through the hospital. He was 
gushing over the brave defenders of the flag, and 
copiously pouring out his words of commendation. 
When he came to Roger's cot he evidently thought 
him a Federal soldier, and said: "Ah! my poor 
hero, you have, I see, given up your own brave 
right arm in defense of our flag. What regiment 
was yours ? ' ' 

" I was a Confederate, sir," 

"What? jo« a rebel?" 

"No, sir; a Confederate soldier," 

"No, sir! You were a rebel against the best 
government the world ever saw. You lost 3'our 
arm, and you ought to have lost your head," he 
said angrily, 

"And you have lost yours, you dirty coward! " 
said the surgeon, who had just come up, "You 
get out of this ward, or I will make the hospital 
steward kick you out," 

" Why, Captain"— 


" Not a word more, sir. No man shall be in- 
sulted in this hospital by any one, much less by a 
coward who does not dare to fight for his princi- 
ples. Leave here, sir, leave." And he left. 

But this was not half so annoying as an encoun- 
ter he had with a good woman from Western New 
York. She came to his cot, and said softly, and 
with apparent great sincerity, when she knew who 
he was: " Well, my young friend, I hope you are 
prepared to die." 

" Yes, I hope so, ma'am; but I am in no special 
hurry to do so." 

" I learn you are a rebel." 

*' Yes, ma'am; some call us so." 

" Well, I hope, my young friend, that the se- 
vere chastisement visited on you has led you to 

" I fear not, ma'am." 

*' There are none so hopeless as those that are 
hardened in sin. You have been fearfully guilty, 
and your sin has found you out." 

*'And ef you plase, ma'am," said the Irish sol- 
dier who was in charge, " ef you plase, ma'am, the 
docther says we were not to parmit the visitors to 
talk too much to the patients." 

"Well, I will obey his orders, but my conscience 
bids me to say, young man, that ' He that being 


often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly 
be destroyed, and that without remedy.' " 

She walked majestically away with the sweet 
complacency of one who had done her full duty. 

Roger was nervous and sad and lonel}', and the 
cold, hard, metallic tone of the woman's voice hurt 
him more than he was willing to admit. Just then 
Miss Alice, his good friend, came to make her 
daily visit. She saw the shadow over his face, 
and asked him what was the matter, why he 
looked so sad? 

"O, nothing," he said, with a faint smile. 

'* Yis, mom, if yez had been here whin that lady 
phats just gone out was a preachin' to the Lieu- 
tenant, an' callin' him a rebel an' vv'hat not, yez 
wouldn't be shurprized at the way he luks." 

"O yes, I know her; and I am determined 3'ou 
shan't have this bother any longer. If Dr. Mc- 
Lean will help me (and I think he will), we will 
have you moved to the Confederate hospital, and 
there you will be free from annoyance." 

When she spoke to the doctor, and told him of 
the disagreeable visitors, he readily promised to 
do as she wished, and added: "If they come 
about that old copperhead. Dr. Sims, they will 
catch it certain. The peppery old fellow is an 
old army surgeon, and is not hurt by his loyalty 


anyhow. Yes, I'll move the Lieutenant to-mor- 

So Roger was moved. It was some weeks be- 
fore he could walk. The old wound broke out 
again, and the old doctor insisted on an operation, 
to which Roger cheerfully submitted. Then Roger 
began rapidly to recover, and was soon almost 
well. Miss Alice was as kind as she had always 
been, but, like many good people, she was poor, 
and Roger had no money and only such clothing 
as the hospital supplied, and he was in no condi- 
tion to leave it. 

One day a Maryland lady visited the hospital 
with supplies from Baltimore for the Confederates. 
As she left Roger, after a pleasant visit, she put 
in his hand this card : " Write to your sister, Mrs. 
Charles Bacon, and let her know your needs." 
This was all. When Miss Ahce came she saw the 
card. "That's the very thing," she said. "I 
know both Lizzie Bacon and her husband, and I 
know they are willing and able to help any of her 
kin, but I did not know she was your sister," 

"And she is not, unless she is a Methodist; for 
I have but one sister, and that is Helen." 

"Well, she is a Methodist, and as you are not 
permitted to get help except some from your rela- 
tions, I reckon you might call her sister." 


" Well, I must have some help, and so you may 
write to her for me." And Miss Alice took her 
pencil and wrote as Roger dictated. He asked 
for a loan of $50, to be returned as soon as he 
had reached home. In a week a check for $50 
was received in a short note signed simpl}^, 
" Your Sister Lizzie." 

In those days when every act was carefully 
watched and detectives were in every corner and 
every offer of help to a Southern soldier was looked 
upon with suspicion, this somewhat innocent form 
of deception was not unusual nor looked upon with 
any special disfavor, nor did the Federal officers 
inquire very closely as to the facts. 

An overcoat and a plain suit of gray, purchased 
with a part of the mone}^ supplied Roger with 
clothing, but he had no money left. IMiss Alice, 
however, Union woman as she was, moved among 
the Southern sympathizers, who were not a few in 
Pennsylvania, and Roger went well furnished to 
Fort Delaware, where he was regularly enrolled 
as a prisoner. He managed to get several short, 
cheery letters through the lines which brought re- 
lief to the burdened hearts at " Pine Lodge." 


'*PINE lodge" again. 

)F I did not give my young readers frequent 
glimpses of home life in these trying days, I 
should very sadly fail in my purpose, which is to 
show how the days through which the whole coun- 
try passed in these years of conflict developed 
character. The men who were old enough to fight 
were ordered to the front, and upon the women 
and older men and children fell all the burden of 
providing for those at home and in the army. 

The cutting off of the interior of the country 
from all foreign supplies made it necessary for 
everything to be produced at home. Mr. Jones 
had decided that after the rice crop of 1863 was 
harvested it would be impossible to make another, 
and so he had removed all the negroes from the 
coast to the pine woods. The home guard kept up a 
constant patrol and protected the farms which were 
out of reach of the gunboats. Those on the rivers 
were abandoned. There were no Federal forces 
nearer than Port Royal and Fort Pulaski, but the 
island and the coast were exposed to attack and 

devastation at any time. The necessity of the 
11 (l:n) 


times led the planters to turn everything in the di- 
rection of food production. 

Helen had been director general of everything 
at "Pine Lodge," but Mr. Jones now relieved 
her and took charge of the large plantation. Still 
she had much to do, and did what no one thought 
she could do. Her father was more than ever con- 
cerned about home, and Helen wrote him very fully 

of what she was trying to have done: 

December, 1S63. 

My Dear Papa: As you suggested, Air. Jones decided to 
move everything from " Lawson Place " and Med way, and for the 
time abandon any effort to plant anotlier ci^op of rice. lie has 
rented four hundred acres of his brother's place, and expects to 
plant the swamp field in upland rice. We expect to put twenty 
acres in potatoes, and forty acres in ground peas for the hogs. 
All the newly cleared land we will put in peas. I had fi\e acres 
in tin-nips, and with one of our large sirup kettles we managed 
to make a good soup for the little negroes every day. Our po- 
tato crop was good, and they are keeping well and help us out 
greatly. We find that while we cannot feed the people like we 
did, yet they have an abundance of rice and potatoes and sirup. 
We manage to supply them wilh moat at least twice a week. 
I wn-ite you this particularly, because I know you are so inter- 
ested in these facts. 

Young Bob and Stumpy BiH ran away and were cau.ght by 
the home guard and brought home. You know Bob has a wife 
and eight children, and Bill has a family as large. They ex- 
pected me to turn them over for punishment to Mr. Jones, but 
I said to them: " Now, boys, if you want to go to the \'ankces, 
jO-o/ but 3'ou must take voin- families. If you can take care of 
them better than we raii, lake them. I am willing. I am not 


going to have ISIr. Jones punish you, but I don't want to see you 
on tliis ph;ce after to-nijlit unless you are going to behave 
properly, and the first time you do wrong again I am going to 
drive you and your families off the place." They were very 
penitent, and I don't think will leave again. 

We heard from Roger. He could only write a line. He was 
cheerful and Mell. Mamma sends much love. Helen. 

The people at home were put up to all they could 
do, but the South is so generous in her gifts to the 
laborer that subsistence is only impossible to the 
absolutely idle. They had no flour, but they had 
rice. The rice mills were out of reach, and they 
pounded the rice in mortars. The wax myrtle and 
tallow gave them candles. The sugar cane patch 
gave them sugar and sirup. The cotton fields 
gave them material for clothing. The negroes 
could not get leather for shoes, but the climate 
was so mild the}^ did not need them. The old 
women carded cotton and wool, and the young 
v/omen spun it and wove it into cloth, and so the 
little colony was supplied ; and one-tenth of all was 
sent to the army to help to supply it with stores. 

Helen still attended her Sunday school regular- 
ly, and still managed it almost alone. The good 
mother bore the burden of unceasing anxiety, but 
lived in the atmosphere of trust and prayer. The 
few neighbors who were left were very kind, and 
did what they could to help, but the burdens fell 
on all alike. 



^^HERE is little pleasure to me in telling of any- 
-'■ thing connected with the fratricidal strife be- 
tween the States; but sad as it was, it w^as — and 
we need not try (for we cannot do so) to blot the 
story out. But of all its chapters there are none 
which to me are so painful as those that tell of 
prison life. It is impossible to make such a life 
agreeable, but, alas ! many things were done and 
left undone by both sides to make it worse than 
it ought to have been, and then, perhaps, parti- 
san hate has added to the story its usual exagger- 
ations. I do not think it is a fit thinfj for either 
side to reproach the other. For every act of op- 
pression in Andersonville or Libby Prison a like 
act just as indefensible can be found in Elmira 
and Fort Delaware and Johnson's Island. Why 
prisoners were not exchanged and much suffering 
avoided is a question we need not open here, but 
when Roger came to Fort Delaware the exchange 
had ceased, and there was nothing before him but 

to wait till the end, 


There had been, as there always is in times of 
war, questions about the treatment of prisoners 
which each side answered to suit itself; and in or- 
der to punish the guilty, the two governments de- 
cided to punish the innocent. They called this 
retaliation, and it was sufficiently cruel and diabol- 
ical to be called anything, and to both governments 
was a blot of darkest dye. 

Fort Delaware was now under the charge of a 
brutal German named Schoef, who was willing to 
go beyond even his orders in punishing the poor 
prisoners under his charge. On a little island, a 
treeless sand bed in the Delaware bay where the 
Brandywine empties into it, was this large fort, 
intended as a defense to the city of Philadelphia, 
sixty miles away. On this island barracks had 
been erected. They were of thin boards, hot in 
summer and fearfully cold in winter. Here the 
prisoners were divided into companies and messes 
and placed under guard. The officers were in 
one set of barracks and the privates in another. 
The whole was in command of the German colonel 
and the various companies under the command of 
subalterns. Escape was almost impossible, for 
deep water was on every side. The officers in the 
barracks were divided into messes, and were fur- 
nished from the commissary departm.ent with a 


meager supply of unpalatable food, and in winter 
a very small quantity of fuel and a very limited 
amount of clothing and bedding. The prisoners 
made the best of the situation. They had religious 
services, gave concerts, had court for the trial of 
offenders, had their trading booths, sold fried rats, 
catfish, and ginger cake, and, alas! gambled in 
every possible way. 

The details of personal suffering and needless 
cruelty at last came to the ears of Col. Thruston^ 
Member of Congress from Ohio, whose nephew 
was in prison. He had an interview with Mr. Lin- 
coln. The kindly heart of the President was much 
moved by his story of the sufferings of the prisoner, 
and he sent for Mr. Stanton. When the Secretary 
came he told him what he had heard and told him 
to order the officer commanding to abate his rigor- 
ous treatment. " Now, Mr. Secretary, the war is 
awful enough, and these deluded people are suf- 
fering enough without any needless cruelty, and I 
want you to detail some young American officers 
and put them in charge of the prisoners, good 
men and firm men, but not tyrants." The Secre- 
tary was in no very good humor; but the matter 
was settled ; and so Capt. Bingham, of the Eleventh 
Connecticut, was ordered to report at the fort and 
assist in the work of caring for the prisoners. 


When he looked over the Hst of prisoners commit- 
ted to his charge he was startled to see the name 
of his old associate in the hospital at Warrenton. 
As soon as all his office affairs had been properly 
settled, he called his orderly and giving him a 
card with the name of Lieut. Roger Lawson on 
it, he gave him an order to request that Confeder- 
ate officer to report at headquarters. Roger did 
not know the new commandant, and was much 
puzzled at the request, but at once accompanied 
the orderly. He was taken into the presence of 
the Captain. 

"You can now retire, orderly, and close my 
door, and allow no one to disturb me for half an 

The orderly gave his salute and took his place 
at the door. 

Roger did not at first recognize his friend. 
The pale-faced youth of tv/o years before, dressed 
then in citizen's clothes, and the bronzed, mus- 
tached, uniformed soldier of to-day were not 
much alike. The Captain rose, and stepping to 
the door locked it, and quickly removed his coat. 
He stretched out a bare arm, and simply said; 
" See that, Johnny?" 

A bright smile crossed the face of the prisoner 
as he stretched out his left hand and grasped the 


extended. "Yes, Yank; and I am glad to see 
you had better luck than I did." 

The two friends had a royal time for the half- 
hour, and then Capt. Bingham said to his friend: 
" Now, Johnny, you know how I am situated, 
but anything I can do for you I will do. If you 
choose to take a place in the commissary depart- 
ment, I can give it to you." 

" No, I am obliged to you. I prefer not to leave 
my messmates, but I am as grateful to you as if I 
were to accept your kindness." 

" Well, I don't blame you for not leaving them. 
I am aware of some things here which need cor- 
rection, and you can assure your fellow-prisoners 
that while I will strictly regard orders from head- 
quarters I will do all I can to prevent any abuse 
of them." 

The half-hour was soon gone. As Roger rose 
to go his friend handed him five crisp ten-dollar 
greenbacks and said: " Take this as a loan." 

Roger hesitated ; but, remembering that it 
was foolish pride that would not allow a friend 
to do a favor for one when he was in need, he 

There was no indication when the Captain in- 
spected the camp and came to the company of 
which Roger was one that he knew the prisoner; 


nor did Roger allow any one to know that the 
captain in charge was his friend. 

He still kept up his correspondence with Miss 
Alice and Mrs. Bacon. Among his associate 
prisoners was Gen. Forney, of Alabama. He 
had known Gen. Lawson in the army, and soon 
had a tender regard for his son. One day he said 
to him: "Lawson, study law. Get a 'Black- 
stone ' and I'll be your preceptor." 

"Agreed," said Roger. 

So " Blackstone " with other books was secured 
from Judge Bingham's through his son, and Roger 
beffan his studies. Months came and went. The 
daily papers told of Gen. Grant's persistent and 
futile efforts to get to Richmond, of the fall of 
Atlanta, and the siege of Petersburg; and poor 
Roger like a caged lion had to hear the story and 
feel the vain longing to be where he could do 
something for the cause. 



fHE lines of Grant were getting nearer and 
nearer to Richmond, but the grand general- 
ship of Lee had kept the great captain who had 
won in every other field still out of the Confeder- 
ate capital. Gen. Lawson's brigade was in front 
of Gen. Butler, who was mining away under the 
intrenchment which he could not carry by assault. 
The prisoners at Fort Delaware, comprising some 
of the brightest officers of the army, were still 
making the best of the situation. Roger w^as still 
diligently at work on his law books, and Gen. For- 
ney was giving him careful instructions. Every 
month he received a letter without signature, in- 
closing ten dollars. The mess table was now well 
spread; and but for the terrible suspense and the 
exile from home the life of the imprisoned officers 
vv^ould have been tolerable. They received the 
New York and Philadelphia papers every day, and 
kept up with the news from the front. On the ist 
of August, when the Philadelphia Press was 
brought to the camp, Roger saw in blazing head- 


lines: "The mine sprung. Terrific slaughter of 
Confederates, Heavy loss of Federals. Over- 
powered by numbers, the Federals retire. Gen. 
Lawson, rebel brigadier, killed on the field." 
The heart of the poor fellow sunk, and he fell on 
his cot with his face buried in his pillow. Gen. 
Forney stood kindly by and finally laid his hand 
on his shoulder and said: " Lawson, this nevvs 
may not be true. I doubt if it is. It is not likely 
that the reporter could have known certainly. 
Don't give up hope." 

The orderly came at that moment. " Order 
for Lieut. Lawson from the Captain," he said. 

Roger rose and wiped the tears from his eyes 
and accompanied the orderly. 

When they were alone Capt. Bingham said: 
" Roger, there is no certainty in this report. Wait 
till you hear more directl}^ I have a friend on 
Butler's staff. I will wire him, and he will be able 
to remove your doubt. Cheer up and hope on." 

It was about nightfall when the same orderly 
came with the same order, and when Roger 
reached his friend's ofiice he handed him a dis- 
patch : 

Flag of truce just returned. Gen. Lawson not dead; wound- 
ed severely, but not fatally. Jenks. 

The mail a few days later brought a letter from 


his father through the flag of truce. It told him that 
his father was wounded in the shoulder, and that 
he would be disabled from service for some time; 
that he would return home on leave of absence. 

The heart of the noble son rose in gratitude to 
God as he carried the good news to the affection- 
ate friends of his mess. 

Gen. Lawson left for home a week after he was 
wounded, and reached "Pine Lodge" safely. 
The wound he had received was severe, but not 
dangerous; and while it kept him confined to his 
house, it did not prevent him from attending to his 
business matters, which had become complicated 
during his long absence. He realized that matters 
were drawing toward a crisis, and perhaps there 
was to be an end which was not looked for. For 
years his overseer had left in his hands the money 
he did not need for expenses, and during these 
three years he had received no salary. The Gen- 
eral had not been walling to offer him Confederate 
money, depreciated currency as it was, in payment 
of a debt incurred when gold and silver were the 
standards, and so the matter was unsettled. After 
he had been at home for two weeks he sent for his 
overseer, and said to him: " Mr. Jones, w^e have 
had no settlement since the war began, and it is 
time we are havine^ one." 


*' Well, General, I hain't worried about that. I 
am wilHng for it to go on as it has been a gwine." 

" No. I don't know how this war is going to 
end, and I do not know, if I get over this wound 
and get back to the army, but that I'll be less for- 
tunate next time. I have no gold, I will not pay 
3'ou in Confederate money, and I don't wish to 
leave you unsecured. I owed you at the begin- 
ning of the war $i,ooo in gold. Your salary has 
been $500 a year, and there are three years unpaid. 
This v/ill, with the interest, make about $3,000 I 
owe you now — just what this place cost. I am go- 
ing to give you a deed to it. If I live, and things 
go right, I will pay you in good money after the 
war, or when you wish it, but I would feel better 
to know you were secure now." 

"Well, suit yourself. General. I hain't scairt 
any way. I know you'll do right, and ef you go 
up we is all gone up." 

The papers were drawn and the deed put on 
record. The skies grew darker. Sherman started 
in November on his march to the sea. There was 
no one to oppose him, as he well knew when he 
began it. He ravaged as he marched, and deso- 
lation remained behind him. It was evident that 
he aimed to strike the Atlantic and Gulf railroad 
as he had done the Central and Georgia, and de- 

174 ^^^ ^°^ ^^ GRAY. 

stroy it as he had done the others. It was not 
likely, if the army came near " Pine Lodge," that 
they would fail to visit it. Gen. Lawson was in 
no condition to fly anywhere. The blow he had 
received on the chest at Gettysburg had left him 
with a cough which was sometimes alarming, and 
his wound had not healed rapidly. Roger's im- 
prisonment, the unhappy condition of public af- 
fairs, the necessities of his people who had to be 
provided for, had burdened him greatly and re- 
tarded his recovery. When he had reason to ex- 
pect a visit from the yankees, he called old Jack 
into his confidence. The old man was to keep 
guard and let him know when the 3^ankees were in 
sight. Young Jack was to keep his horse always 
ready for him, and a place of refuge was to be pro- 
vided in the swamp, and a bridleway made to it, 
and a palmetto-covered tent made for his protec- 
tion. There were none, save Helen and her moth- 
er, old Jack and young Jack, who knew of this 
provision. Bob, the butler, was a favorite and 
trusted servant; and the General, with Bob and old 
Jack, went out into the pine wood back of the 
house and carefully buried a trunk containing val- 
uable papers, the jewels, and the family plate. 

The Federals drew nearer and nearer. The 
main army went down the Central road and a de- 


tachment of cavalry came Ihrougli Liberty. Old 
Jack was at work in the field when he saw the 
bluecoats coming toward the house. He came 
out to the fence to meet them. They were so ac- 
customed to glad greetings from the negroes, who 
looked upon them as their deliverers from bondage, 
that they were not at all surprised at the warm 
greeting of the old man: "Well, massa, you's 
here at las'. Ts been lookin' fur 3-ou long time. 
Heap niggahs round here look fur 3'ou." 

" Who is your master? " 

" My master? Yes, sar, he named Mr. William 
Barnwell Smith, sir." 

" Is there a Gen. Lawson living near here? " 

" O 3'es, sar; Gen. Lawson lib down dat road 
about tree mile, sah. He be home. I seed him 

" Why, I thought they told us this was the way 
to his house." 

" No, massa, I know de way. I go up to de 
house and git my mule. I go wid you and show 
you where he lib." 

"Well, be quick about it." 

"Yes, Massa; I be back in tree minute." 

So Jack ran to the house. His master knew, as 
he saw him running, what it meant, and he was 
out of the back door, and in a full gallop to the 


swamp, in a moment. Young Jack dashed away 
on a horse in the other dii^ection. He had on a 
gray coat, and when the Federals caught sight of 
him they put out in pursuit. He stopped as they 
fired the first shot, and they brought him to the 
captain. " Who do you belong to, sir? " 

" Gin. Lawson, sah." 

" Where does he live? " 

" Right up dar, sah." 

" Is he at home?" 

"No, sah; he ain't been at home dese tree 

'* You lie, sir; he was at home this morning." 

"Well, sah; maybe so. I ain't seen him." 

" Where were you going? " 

" Going to find de Unions, and git free." 

"Where is that old nigger who said he would 
be back in three minutes?" 

"O, dat old fool Jack? He don't know his own 

" Well, you take us to your master's." 

"Yes, sah; dis way." 

The negroes heard that the 3'ankees had come, 
and they came running to meet them; Lean Bill, 
Stumpy Tom, Yellow Dick, and all the hosts. 
Old Aunt Judy and Mammy did not stir, and old 
Jack was nowhere to be found ; but young Jack 


was the most delighted of all the gang. The bird 
had flown. The captain of the raiders came in. 
He was courteous to the ladies, but he was anxious 
to capture the brigadier. " Gen. Lawson lives 

** Yes, sir." 

*« Is he at home?" 

♦♦No, sir." 

♦♦Where is he?" 

♦♦ I do not know, sir." 

♦♦ When was he here last? " 

♦♦ I dechne to tell." 

♦♦ I must search the house." 

♦♦ Certainly, sir; you can do so." 

The search was thorough. A search for new 
horse tracks was made, and they were in abun- 
dance, but they went every way. Old Jack was 
too wary to be caught that easy. At last the}' pre- 
pared to leave. They had all the stock gathered 
up (horses, mules, cows, calves, and everything 
that could be driven), and then told all the negroes 
who wished to go that they could go to the camp 
or elsewhere, and then left. Most of the negroes 
went, and, to the sorrow and astonishment of the 
mistress, the most delighted were young Jack and 

That night some of the troopers, after they had 


given Bob a good supper and several drinks of 
whisky from their canteens, took him aside, 
and said: " Now, my friend, if you want to make 
some money, tell us where you hid your master's 
money, and we'll divide with you." 

"Well, sah; I don't know as how Mas Roger 
buried no money, but he buried a trunk; what he 
got in 'em I dunno." 

"Can you find it?" 

"Yes, sah; I specks so." 

" Well, now, don't you tell nobody; you go with 
us there." 

"Yes, sah." 

So at midnight they went for the buried treas- 
ure. The faithful Bob took them to the spot 
where he had assisted in burying the trunk. It 
zuas not there! The troopers cursed him and 
kicked him and threatened to kill him, but he 
said truly he did not know where the trunk was. 
They could see that it had been there, and became 
convinced that he was not playing them false. 
The general was safe in his hiding place, and old 
Jack had made provision for what might come. 
He had a bed of pine straw, a warm supper of 
fried meat and corn hoecake, and kept watch 
while his wounded master rested. He knew the 
house would be watched, and he made himself in- 


visible. At midnio-ht of the second nio-ht he 
ghded up to his cabin to tell his old wife the news 
to take to her mistress. It was two weeks before 
the last of the cavalry was gone, and during that 
time the General only left his lodging at midnight. 
" Lawson Place" was burned to the ground. 
There was only left some rough rice and potatoes 
for the negroes. The most of them went to the 
camp, but many of them returned after the raiders 
left; one who came back brought a few pounds of 
coffee for " ole miss." Bob, the traitor, never 
came back, but Jack came up with tw^o good 
mules he had stolen from the yankees. The rice 
cut from the uplands was not yet threshed, and 
when the negroes returned all hands were put to 
gathering potatoes, threshing rice, and picking 
ground peas. There was a quantity of cowpeas 
still ungathered in the fields, and some cattle and 
hogs in the swamp which the raiders failed to get; 
and that supply, with a few bags of long cotton 
which were hidden away and which they did not 
find, was all that was left. 



fHE march of Sherman toward the sea was 
duly heralded by the Northern press, and 
when he reached Savannah the full story of his 
wonderful exploit was told in flaming letters. 
Without a single regiment of veteran soldiers to op- 
pose him, he had marched triumphantly to the coast. 
The story of homes devastated, of plantations 
ravaged, slaves freed, stock captured, houses 
burned, railways torn up, was pleasant reading in 
these wdld times to the people of the North, who 
had begun to fear that the war would never end. 

As poor Roger read these accounts he was mis- 
erable. He knew that the army must have struck 
the Atlantic and Gulf railroad not far from where 
his father's home was. But had his father been 
captured? What had become of his mother and 
Helen? The anxiety told upon him, and his noble 
foe could not but see it. So Capt. Bingham re- 
solved that if it was in his power to get Roger re- 
leased on parole it should be done. He knew that 

his father and Mr. Lincoln were great friends, and 


he felt assured that all Mr. Lincoln could do he 
would do. So he wrote to his father. He told 
of liovv Roger in all probability had saved his life, 
of how seriously he had been injured, and of the 
Heedlessness of keeping longer in prison one who 
could do no military service. 

Judge Bingham, stern man as he was, and with 
no warm place in his heart for a people who had 
brought, as he thought, such needless woe on the 
country, had a kindly heart, and his brave boy was 
dearer to him than life, and when his gentle daugh- 
ter and loving wife said, " Go," he resolved to go, 
and he took the next train from Bin^hamton to 
Washington. He met Mr. Lincoln, stated his case, 
and the President did not hesitate a moment, but 
wrote to the Secretary of War to furnish Judge 
Bingham the needful authority to secure for Lieut. 
Roger Lawson. prisoner of war at Fort Delaware, 
a parole of honor of indefinite length, and to fur- 
nish him transportation to Savannah. 

Roger had no idea of what was in store when 
the orderly came for him to report again at head- 
quarters. As he entered the room his friend dis- 
missed the orderly, and said: "Lieut. Lawson, let 
me introduce you to my father." 

The old Judge stretched out his hand pleasantly, 
and then said, " I have something for you," and 


handed him the order that the Secretary of War 
had given him. 

The poor boy was overcome, and burst into 

The Judge wiped his eyes as he said: *' Well, I 
don't reckon that you are anxious to stay here any 
longer than you are obliged to, and as the boat 
starts in an hour we will go together to New York, 
from which place there Is a transport going to start 
for Savannah in a very short time." 

Roger pressed the hand of his noble friend, and 
hurried to his qharters, bade farewell to his com- 
rades, and was soon on his wa}' to New York. 
The old Judge left him at the Astor House, where 
he usually stopped, having paid his bill for the 
time that he must wait, and went back to his home 
in Connecticut angrier than ever with the fire eaters 
who had brought on the war. 

Capt. Bingham had not been forgetful that Roger 
might need funds, and had supplied him with what 
was necessary. 

Roger knew that a Confederate was not in 
high favor in New York about that time, and did 
not make himself prominent. He was not will- 
ing to conceal his true character, but not dis- 
posed to advertise himself. He spent in his room 
the two days that he was waiting for the steamer. 


except as he appeared in citizen's clothes at the 
table. He noticed a rough, gray-bearded old fel- 
low sitting close to him and eying him ver}^ sharpl}-. 
And the day before he sailed, after dinner, he was 
in his room when he heard a kno«k at his door. 
He went to it, and saw the old man. He came in, 
at Roger's invitation, and took a seat. Looking 
cautiously around, he said, in rather a hoarse whis- 
per: " Look here, young man, hain't you a Con- 

Roger smiled, and said: " Yes; I am a paroled 
prisoner going home from Fort Delaware." 

" Well, I am Jim Anderson, once from Pike 
Count}^ Missouri, but now from Santa Rosy, Cal- 
iforny, and did not know but that you was a tryin' 
to git away from 'em, and I'll be blessed if I 
weren't gwine to help ye." 

" No; I am a paroled prisoner, and have my pa- 

" Well, I've got ten gold eagles here what's 
been a waitin' to fly to some Confed's pocket, 
and these is yours." 

" I thank you, and I can't refuse to take them, 
for I know m}^ father was on Sherman's line, and 
I fear the family and the people are greatly desti- 

Well, I can't repeat what old Jim said. His 


language was more emphatic than pious, but 
shortly he said: "Well, I mout git you into 
trouble, or you mout git me into trouble. Good- 
bye, boy, and hurrah for Jeff Davis and the Con- 
federacy ! " The old man left his new friend. 

The next afternoon the steamer turned her face 
southward, and in three days Roger had reached 



tEN. LAWSON was safe from capture after 
Sherman had marched from Savannah, but 
his exposure to the chilhng weather of December 
had brought on a severe attack of pneumonia, 
which had left him greatly weakened and with a 
fearful cough. It became evident to him and to 
all that his last campaign was nearing its end. 
He had made good preparation for that end, and 
the ministrations of his sweet, Christian wife and 
dear daughter made the evening as bright as it 
could be. But O for Roger! Could he but see 
him once more. He had no word from him for a 
month, and yet he could not but look toward the 
door as if hoping his boy would enter it. He was 
declining rapidly, that was evident. Wife and 
child and friend alike knew that the strong man 
was now near his end. The mind was bright, the 
heart was brave, but the poor body was no longer 
a fit tenement for the man. When Roger reached 
Savannah he found every railway torn up, no 

steamer going southward, and his only hope of 



reaching home was to buy a mule and to ride 
through the country. He was able to make the 
purchase without difficulty, and began his weari- 
some journey. He was fifty miles from home, and 
night was near at hand before he could begin his 
journey, but as soon as it was possible he started 
'homeward. All night long he rode. The next 
morning he was still ten miles awa}^ from home. 
The mule was weary, but the rider forgot he 
could get weary himself. He stopped at a house 
long enough to give his mule some food and eat 
a morsel himself, and then began his journey 
again. He was slowly making his way over the 
sand beds when he heard a voice that he thought 
he knew, of one who was giving out a hymn and 
singing the words he repeated. He had often 
heard Jack sing. Jack was so absorbed in his 
sono; that he did not notice the stranger who had 
just caught sight of him until they were face to 
face, and Roger said: "Jack! Jack! " 

"Lord, have messy! Lord, have messy! A 
spirit, a spirit! Mass Roger's spirit." He was 
too frightened to run, but he covered his eyes in 

"Jack, don't you know me? I am not dead. 
I am no spirit." 

" Mass Roger, is you sure you's not dead?" 


" Feel m}^ hand and see, Jack." 

" Bless de Lord! Bless de Lord ! Mass Roger, 
you's come in time. Ole Massa is still a libbin." 

"Jack, get off 3'our mule and take mine. I 
must not wait." 

Jack dismounted and Roger put the young mule 
up to his best speed. Before he reached his home, 
however, he realized the wisdom of preparing 
them for his coming, and so he restrained his 
eagerness and paused long enough at Mrs. John 
Jones's to get her to go before him. 

Well, I cannot lift the veil, I cannot describe 
the meetinf^. The brave soldier as he sat in the 
warm sunshine of later January, looking for death 
with a fearless eye, now looked upon the face of 
him he had not hoped to see again in this world. 

A week afterward a sad company surrounded 
the grave at the old Medway Church, where be- 
side his ancestors Gen. Lawson was laid to sleep. 
He had passed over the river to rest under the 
shade of the trees. The night before he passed, 
he said: "I have lost all but my religion." As 
death came his mind wandered a little and he was 
ordering his troops in battle, and then joyously 
said, " We've won, we've won," and sunk to 



^jtf^HE almost heart-broken wife leaned upon the 
^ remaining arm of her loving boy as she walked 
sadly from the old graveyard where for more than 
a hundred 3^ears her kinspeople had been laid 
away. The family carriage had been left by the 
raiders, and in it the sad family made their way 
back to their pine woods home. 

The troubles of life are sometimes unmixed evil, 
and men and women are sometimes turned to stone 
by them ; but there are those who suffer and are 
blessed, for they look through every cloud and see 
the light, and thus did the saintly woman ; and to 
such as she was trials are only tonics to the soul. 
They learn to rejoice while they weep. 

Helen and Roger were young and brave, and 
their tender love for their mother kept them from 
idle lamentation. " Lawson Place " was in ashes, 
its chimneys as thousands of others stood as monu- 
ments of the needless cruelty of a pitiless soldier to 
a helpless people, and all that the family owned was 

swept away. Roger felt that he was now to face 

• (1«8) 


another foe more fearful than any he had met be- 
fore. The land about him was desolate, a great 
social revolution was impending. He had girded 
himself for the conflict. Mr. Jones, whom his 
father had trusted so fully, and whom he had 
found so faithful, was still manager. Roger 
and Helen, however, decided that some imme- 
diate change must be made, and Mr. Jones was 
called into consultation. The case was a some- 
what alarming one. Two hundred and fifty ne- 
groes were to be fed, and there was no corn 
or bacon, and but a small supply of rice, with 
which to feed them. Something must be done, 
and at once, or they would starve. To farm when 
there were no mules or plow horses was impossi- 
ble. To attempt to make another crop where they 
were was foil}'. 

Mr. Jones said: "Well, Mr. Roger and Miss 
Helen, its no use to say we is in a bad fix — a kind 
of delemmer, as Parson Prescott used to say — and 
we can't do nothin' but do the best we kin. So I've 
been a thinkin' that we had better git the hands back 
to ' Lawson Place' as soon as possible. Their 
cabins is left ; them yanks never left nothin' but the 
graveyard and the nigger houses. The niggers all 
know how to make rice with a hoe, and while we 
can't do much for 'em, they is less likely to starve 


down on Medway and the salts than here. The fact 
is, them yanks are obleeged to feed these niggers. 
We can't do it. Now if you think the nigger ain't 
gwine to be free, you've got some property yit, 
but, to my seein', a nigger hain't worth more than 
a poor white man, and a powerful onery one at 

" I fully agree with you, Mr. Jones, and I think 
we had better begin the move at once. The peo- 
ple may run away to the Sea Islands and the army 
at Savannah, but better that than starvation." 

So all the slaves were sent to their old home, 
except a few who were left at "Pine Lodge." 
Mr. Jones turned them over at " Lawson Place " 
to their respective drivers, and returned to his 
home in the pine woods. Roger sent them every 
week from the rapidly exhausting granary what 
food he could, but it was evident that this could 
not continue long. The effort to make anything 
more than a small crop of provisions was aban- 
doned, and the family was reduced to the neces- 
sity of living in the narrowest way. The parched 
potato gave them a substitute for coffee ; rice 
and sweet potatoes w^ere the breadstuff. A little 
bacon was scantily dealt out once or twice a week, 
and there was a chicken now and then, a catfish 
caught by old Jack in his trap, a mess of bream 


caught by Roger in the pond near by, and so the 
family was kept from real want; but there was 
great stringency and much privation. 

At last it was all over. Gen. Lee surrendered. 
A few weeks afterwards Johnston followed, 
and then the collapse came. Roger was not sur- 
prised when it did. "Thank God! " Roger said 
when he heard it, "the negroes won't starve 

" Well, maybe they will not. They freed them ; 
now they will feed them." 

Old Jack, young Jack, Aunt Judy, and Chloe 
only now remained on the place. The mule Roger 
had bought and the two mules Jack had confiscated 
were the stock which was left behind, and now 
there was coming into han-est a field of oats, which 
with the rice straw and pea vines, furnished suffi- 
cient forage to keep them in working order. Two 
bags of what is called in the South "long cotton," 
a variety of that which is known as " Sea Island," 
had escaped the torch by being hid in the swamp, 
and Roger with young Jack went to Savannah on 
the wagon to dispose of them. The}^ brought a 
very large price. The two bags, weighing six hun- 
dred pounds, brought $500, which Roger received 
in greenbacks, but when people had been paying 
$30 per yard for calico and $30 a pound for coffee, 


to buy calico for thirty cents and bacon for twenty 
cents and coffee for fifty cents seemed almost 
cheap. He bought a cask of bacon, some flour, 
loaf sugar, delicious tea, and articles necessary for 
the ladies' apparel, and the wagon as heavily loaded 
as was safe returned to the place. The negroes 
on the plantation reported to the Freedman's Bu- 
^ reau, and had rations issued until they could get a 
crop made. 

When Roger began to look into the condition of 
his father's affairs, he found that he was a penni- 
less heir. 

There- was the Medway property, devastated 
and mortgaged to its full value ; the " Pine Grove " 
property, devastated and mortgaged to its full 
value; the Rosevelt Factory stock, worthless; the 
State of Georgia Bank stock, worthless; the At- 
lantic and Gulf Railroad stock, w^orthless; fifty 
thousand dollars of Confederate bonds, worthless; 
fifty thousand dollars Confederate money for last 
year's crop of rice, worthless; twenty thousand 
dollars Georgia treasury notes, w^orthless. On 
the other hand every debt his father owed must be 
paid if there was means to pay it with. He had 
looked over the papers, and he said with rather a 
faint smile: "Well, my girl, we've 'Ivy Bush' 
left if we could get there." 


"Well, why not 'Ivy Bush?'" said Helen. 
"Yes, why not?" 

Roger at first thought of attempting to recover 
what was lost. They had the plantations in pos- 
session. The negroes were there. Mr. Harris 
might be able to furnish the money to begin 
again; but if he had any such hope, it was soon 
dispelled by a letter from Messrs Harris & Sons. 
They wrote him that Messrs. Fall, Daniel & Son 
had written them with reference to the mortgage, 
that the old Quaker refused any extension of time, 
and that if the mortgage, principle and interest, was 
not paid by November i, steps for foreclosure 
should at once be taken. 

Roger looked a little depressed, but clear-headed 
Helen said: " This is best. We never could have 
made enough to have paid that mortgage, and we 
must now be content to be what God in his provir 
dence says we should be : to be poor. We will 
go to ' Ivy Bush.' " 

" If we can get there," said her brother. " It has 
been three years since you heard from there at all. 
I don't suppose the place has run away, though." 

"No; papa put old man Durham in the place 

when he resolved to go the war, and I suppose he 

is there still. But we have not been able to hear 

from him for three years." 


" Well, we are a fixture here for the next six 
months, until matters are settled here, and then 
we will start again and live anew at 'Ivy Bush.' 
God has been very good to us in saving us from 
any suffering thus far, but w^hen I think of how 
helpless I am and how little I know, and think of 
mamma and you, I get a little despondent." 

" You worry about us. You forget, young man, 
I am your elder sister, and have taken pretty good 
care of myself in the past." 

"And so you have of all the rest, but I ought 
not to let the load fall on you so heavily." 

"When 1 complain, you may sympathize. If 
Bob had not run away with our silver and my 
jewels, we at least might have had something to 
have set us up in housekeeping." 

"Well, we will be about as well off in that re- 
spect as most of our neighbors in Habersham." 

The Federal soldiers were gradually withdrawn 
from the country, and people were adjusting "them- 
selves to the new condition of things under which 
they were. When the last soldier from Libert}^ 
was gone, and things had settled down to the calm 
repose of other days, old Jack seemed to feel 
greatly relieved. Roger thought maybe he was 
relieved because the confiscation of the two mules 
by young Jack had escaped discovery, but he 


found there was another cause. One evening 
after supper Jack came to the back door, and 
called for Roger: " Mass Roger, I want you and 
Miss Helen to leab ole Miss wid Judy, and come 
'long wid me. 

" Well, Jack, where are you going? " 
" Nebber you min' ; you come 'long wid me." 
Young Jack was at the back door, with a spade 
and a mattock. The old man had a pine torch. 
He lit it, and led the group into the recesses of 
the swamp. He passed the magnolia tree under 
which something like a grave appeared, and mut- 
tered to himself: " Dat nigger fool one time." 
Striking out into the wood by an obscure path, he 
paused at last where there was a fallen tree of 
small size. He looked in several directions, then 
he turned to 3'oung Jack, and said: "Now 3'ou 
roll back dat log." He did so. " Now you dig 
right dar." He did so. As he dug old Jack 
threw the dirt aside with his spade. At last 
Jack's mattock struck something. " Dat's it," 
said the old man. The dirt was thrown out, and 
old Jack and his son raised out from the grave in 
which he had buried it the hair-covered trunk. 

" Poor Massa never know dat rascal Bob. He 
truss him; I no truss him. Bob run away with de 
yankee man, I slip here and dig up de trunk and 


bury him ergin. Bob come get him; Bob no find 
him. I tell nobody till yankee man get gone. All 
de tings here, just like Massa put em." The 
faithful old man had been afraid to tell any human 
being of his secret till he knew that all danger 
was past. 

The trunk was carried carefully home. It had 
not been injured, and the contents were not at all 
affected. In it was the family silver: urn, coffee- 
pot, teapot, cups, spoons, the old watches, and 
diamonds. It was old time silver, when silverware 
was known as plate, and when over a hundred 
dollars was often paid for a cup richly chased, or 
a tea urn. There too was the deed made to " Ivy 
Bush." and the will of Roger Lawson. 

It was impossible to get to " Ivy Bush " during 

the summer of 1865, and Roger remained at home, 

settling up his father's affairs as best he could. 

A letter to Durham failed to elicit any reply, and 

Roger wrote to his old. friend. Squire Bass, of 

whom he had not heard in four years. It took a 

letter a long time to get to Clarksville, for the 

mail service was but slowly restored, and it was 

toward winter when he received this astounding 

reply : 

Near Clarksville, Dec. i, 1S65. 

il/)' Dear Roger: I was glad to hear from you. The Lord 

has been mighty good to mc and mv oUl Moman and feems, 


and we is all back agin. Jeems was wounded pretty bad in the 
fight before Knoxville, but he's pretty nigh over it, though his 
leg troubles him jit. You writ about " Ivy Bush." Well, I am 
sorry to say old Bob Durham is thar yit, and he says he's a gwine 
to stay thar. He says what I know's a lie: that he bought the 
place from your pappy, and is got a deed. He's got a deed, for 
I seed it; and it was signed by your pappy, he says. Well, its 
got his name to it, and it looks like he writ it; bvit I don't think 
he did. The last time he was here he told me he had give this 
place to your mother, and I know he wern't the man to go back 
on his word. I am afeered old Bob is a gwine to give vou 
trouble, but you can count on me and Jeems a standing by you. 
The Durham boys deserted the army, and jined the bush- 
whackers in Tennessee. They are back here now, and the 
country hain't no better for their being in it. Old Bob Durham 
drinks a power, and the boys is no doubt making blockade 
whisky, but the revenues don't try to catch up with 'em. I 
think you had better come up here as soon as you kin git here. 
The longer this thing is put off the more trouble thar will be. 
We have had hard times up here, and they is hard yit. The 
boys didn't git back in time to pitch a good crap, but, thank 
God, we haven't starved, and we hain't a gwine to. Give a 
heap of howdy to Helen and your mother from me and my old 
woman and Jeems. 

Your true friend, James Bass. 

Roger read the letter with mingled feelings of 
astonishment and indignation. It was evident that, 
taking advantage of the war times and the long 
distance which separated the parties, and hoping 
that death would assist them in their schemes, a 
plot had been entered into to rob them of their 
summer place. Roger knew enough of the slow 


processes of law and of its uncertainties not to feel 
concerned. He handed the letter silently to Helen. 
When she read it her cheek flushed; but, looking 
at her brother and seeing the evidences of great 
anxiety in his face, she calmly said; "God still 
lives, and he will not allow this robbery. We will 
find some way out of this trouble too." 

" I know that Vv^e will, but I am annoyed at the 
distress that it will give poor mamma." 

"Why need she to know anything of it? We 
can keep it to ourselves." 

"Yes, and we will do so. It is evident that 
nothinjj can be done now. It is difficult to iiet to 
Habersham. I cannot leave mother. There is 
little hope of doing anything on the farm if we 
could get possession of it this season. So will let 
the matter rest till summer." 

The two children went out unto the room of 
their mother. Never demonstrative, but always 
tender and thoughtful, she was thinking for others. 
When they came they found that she had opened 
the trunk and had placed on the table the articles 
that it contained. There were one teapot, one 
coffee urn, one punch bowl, one salver, one sugar 
bowl, twelve large tablespoons, twelve dessert 
spoons, twelve teaspoons, one soup tureen and 
ladle, one large pitcher, one flagon, one-half 


dozen goblets, and sundry other pieces of heavy- 
solid silver. These pieces of silver had descended 
from the Maxwells and Lawsons, and had the 
court of arms of each family on them. There 
was a diamond brooch, a pair of diamond brace- 
lets, a pearl necklace, and some beautiful rings 
set with diamonds, sapphires, and pearls. As the 
children came in she said to them: "I am tak- 
ing a little list of these things, and a last look at 
them. After your dear father's death I determined 
to have the plate on my table no more, and now 
that my children need the money which it will sell 
for, I am anxious for it to be sold." 

The children were at first disposed to demur, 
but it was too evidently the thing that ought to be 
done for them to hesitate, and so it was decided 
that Roger should take it to Mr. Hamilton, the 
Savannah jeweler, and place it in his hands to be 
disposed of. Helen insisted that her jewels should 
be sold too. 



^^HE next day Roger, with young Jack and the 
^ wagon in which was the trunk of plate, began 
his journey to Savannah, which he reached in due 
time. The war was virtually over ; but the country 
was still under military rule, and the cities in charge 
of provost marshals. To see the colored troops in 
blue uniform parading the streets of Savannah, and 
to be forced to submit his papers to their examina- 
tion, was not a pleasant thing to a high-spirited 
young Southerner like Roger, and when to all this 
was added the fact of a lost cause and lost fortunes, 
and above all of a lost father, the cup was sufficient- 
ly full of bitterness. 

Roger had little now to do than to deposit the 
plate with his mother's old jeweler, and to re- 
quest him to do the best that he could with it, 
and to call on Col. Floyd, who was his father's 
counselor at law, and consult him about the "Ivy 
Bush " matter. He called at the office of the wise 
attorney, and told him the condition of affairs at 

"Ivy Bush." Roger showed him Squire Bass's 


letter, and when the Colonel read it he looked 
thoughtful: " Well, Captain, I am sure that your 
case is a good one, and in time you can oust these 
intruders, but the times are out of joint. The 
courts are not in good working order, and it is 
certain that you cannot trust a jury now. Old 
Durham has evidently quite a following. He 
seems to be a Unionist. His sons were in the 
Federal army, and he has a deed; forged as it is, 
it is a deed, and has been admitted to record, and 
the best thing that you can do is to do nothing now. 
Write to Col. Billups, who was in the army with 
your father and is a good lavN^er, to keep an eye 
on old Durham, and see to it that no sale of the 
place is made to an innocent purchaser, and wait 
for developments." 

This was in accord with Roger's own ideas of 
what was best, and so he went back to the home 
in Liberty to wait. He carried with him from the 
colonel's office sundry law books which he in- 
tended to study under his direction, that he might 
get ready for admission to the bar. 

In the Savannah Press of May 31 appeared this 


A planter's wife who has lost her property^ and who has 
been bereft of her husband, offers a beautiful let of silverware 


and some beautiful old time jewelry for sale at a great sacrifice. 
Apply to Hamilton & Co., 41 Broughton Street. 

A Federal colonel was smoking in the office of 
the commandant, and a young adjutant was read- 
ing the morning paper. The advertisement caught 
his eye. "Hey, colonel! here is something the 
bummers did not get. Pride has its fall. I see these 
haughty dames, who toss their pretty heads at us, 
have to come down at last," and he read the ad- 
vertisement. " Say, colonel, let us go down and 
look at it, and if it is cheap I believe Til get it for 
my girl in Maine." 

The colonel did not seem to enter into the spirit 
of the thoughtless subordinate, but quietly arose 
and said: "Well, come on." 

Mr. Hamilton brought out the plate. " There 
are," he said, " two crests here — the Maxwells 
and the Lawsons. They were of our oldest and 
best families in Liberty County, but Gen. Lawson 
was wounded and died and the old home was 
burned down, and his wife was forced to sell. 
The plate is of the highest grade of crown silver." 

" The Maxwells and Lawsons, of Liberty Coun- 
ty, did you say? ' 


" Was this lady the mother of Capt. Roger Law- 


"Yes. He put the plate in my hands." 

"What is it worth?" 

"Well, I ought to get $i,ooo for the lot; and 
for these jewels I got when I sold them to her 
father $500 more. I might take less, as they are 
in such need, but they are richly worth that." 

"Mr. Jeweler," said the adjutant, "say $500 
• for the lot." 

"No; I w^ill try to do better than that." 

" Weil, I'll give that, but no more." 

They w^ent quietly out of the store, but in an 
hour's time an orderly came back to the store with 
this note: 

Dear Sir: Inclosed find check for $1,500 in full payment of 
the plate and jewelry shown me this morning. Send the goods 
by the bearer. 

The next mail to " Pine Lodg^e " brou^rht Roj^er 
and Helen a surprising letter. 

Capt. Roger Lawson. 

My Dear Sir: The day after you left the plate in my charge 
a young yankee colonel came in and bought the whole of it. 
He had it sent to his office. His name I do not know. The 
money is to your credit in the Central Railroad Bank. 

Hamilton & Co. 



^^HE times were truly out of joint. There was 

^ first the government of Georgia as it has been 

for a hundred years, but it only stood a few months. 

Then the provisional government, and then the 

military government. They came in such rapid 

succession that one was scarcely able to locate the 

govermuent before it was gone. There was a 

breaking up of everything, and in no part of 

Georgia were things more mixed than in that part 

of the State which bordered on North Carolina 

and Tennessee. Here alone, as far as Georgia 

was concerned, it was that the loyalist element had 

much influence, but here it did. Some law3^ers 

of real parts were avowed radicals, and many of 

the people. 

Col. McNiel was one of the leaders of what the 

old Confederates scornfully called " Hogbacks." 

He was hand in glove with the moonshiners, who 

were themselves on the best of terms with the 

revenue men. The Colonel had drawn up, he said, 

the deed to "Ivy Bush" by which Bob Durham 

held it. Col. Billups knew all these people, and 


was on as good terms with them as a Confederate 
colonel could be with Union men. Some he knew 
were honest, but some he knew were thoroughly 
unscrupulous. He was too wise to act precipi- 
tately, so he advised Roger to remain quietly at 
"Pine Lodge" until he sent for him, and kept 
his eyes wide open. At length, in March of 1866, 
he wrote Roger to come on to Clarksville as soon 
as possible. The court was near its spring term. 
Old Bob Durham had decided to sell out, and 
was about to trade with a man from over the line 
in Tennessee. Issue must be made at once, and 
Roger must be there to secure possession, if pos- 
session could be secured. 

When Roger reached Clarksville he found the 
Basses ready to welcome him, and his old friend, 
Andy Rhodes, was back in his old haunts. They 
had been in the army together. When Andy was 
seriously sick in the mountains Roger had nursed 
him as tenderly as a brother. Andy had an eighth 
part of Indian blood in his veins. He feared noth- 
ing but work. He was the only man in Haber- 
sham the Durhams were really afraid of, and it 
was a rather good thing for Roger that Andy was 
his friend. 

When Roger reached Clarksville he had an in- 
terview with Col. Billups. 


Matters were a little squally. Old Durham had 
the deed, McNiel drew it up, the witnesses were 
dead, Durham was about to sell, and he and his 
sons swore vengeance against any man who dis- 
turbed their right of possession. It would never 
do to have the matter before a jury, with McNiel 
to persuade it and the Durhams to frighten it. 
He must try another course. Roger was to be 
quiet, and simply wait. 

"Say, Billups," said McNiel, "it is a poor 
business to molest that poor old man, Durham. I 
drew the deed myself, and old Bob paid his hard- 
earned money for the land. He has held it for four 
years, and it's too late for this youngster to pretend 
the property was given to his mother. You had 
just as well let it drop." 

"Well, Dick, maybe you are right. Anywa}^, 
you get the deed and bring it to my office, where 
I will meet you; and bring old Bob there, and I 
will get my young client, and we wdll see if we 
can't settle it." 

So old Bob and Col. McNiel and Col. Billups 
and Roger met in the office, and with them came 
Andy Rhodes. Col. Billups told him he must be 
on hand, and ready for work, if work was needed. 
Andy knew what that meant, and as he buckled 
on his cavalry belt he looked a little carefully at 


the cartridges in his navy shooter, and put on 
some fresh caps. 

The little group were evidently intensely in 

"Now, Col. Billups, I drew this deed; didn't 
I, Bob?" 

"Yes, that you did, Squire, and Bob Wortham 
and Tom Hughes both witnessed it. It was just 
before Maj. Lawson left here for the army. He 
come up here to fix things, and carry his niggers 
back, and says he: 'Mr. Durham,' says he, 'I 
need some money, and I don't think I'll ever 
come back here no more, and I'll sell you this 
'ere place for $800 cash down.' That's just what 
the deed says, ain't it, Squire? And says I, ' I'll 
take it,' And, Squire, you drawed the deed and 
seed me pay down the money, didn't you? " 

"Yes, of course I did." 

"And now for em to bring another deed, what 
they say was made a year before this un, and try 
to git my propity from me, hain't honest, and I 
hain't a gwine to put up with it nuther. Thar'll 
be some blood spilt first." 

"O well, Bob!" said Col. Billups quietly, 
" nobody is going to spill any blood about it. If 
your deed is good, it is good. On the court rec- 
ords, though, there is a deed which was made 


a year before this was, in favor of Mrs. Mary 

" Yes, I know thar was, but I did not know it 
when I bought this property, and you didn't; did 
you. Squire? " 

"No, of course I did not. I did not think 
a rich man Hke Col. Lawson would rob a poor 
countr^^man out of his honest earnings." 

"What do you mean, sir?" said Roger, start- 
ing to his feet, and clinching his fist. 

"Please be still, Mr. Lawson," said Col. Bil- 
lups. " Suppose, Dick, somebody forged a deed, 
and signed Lawson's name to it." Col. Billups 
had the deed in his hand, and looked calmly in 
McNiel's eye. 

"Somebody forged! Do you dare to say I 
forced it?" he hissed as he rose to his feet and 
reached for his pistol. 

" Say, Dick McNiel, you just sit there quiet, 
will ye, and listen to Col. Billups, or I'll put five 
bullets into ye so quick you won't have time 
to wink." The navy of Andy never missed fire, 
and he never missed his mark. Old Bob had 
started up, too, with his pistol in his hand, but 
Roger's pistol warned him to be still, and he 
dropped his weapon and sunk into his seat. 

" Yes, Dick, you forged that deed, and it is not 


the first by many, I am afraid. But you were not 
as sharp as you thought you were. Your pre- 
tended witnesses are dead, that is true; the record 
was made, that is true; your deed is dated 1861, 
that is true ; but, Dick, you did not get the right 
kind of paper, if you did stain it. Look here." 
And he held the deed up to the hght, and in the 
body of it one read: " Passaic Mills, 1865." The 
telltale figures settled the case. The lawyer, 
cowed and pale, said nothing. 

"Now, Dick, if this case comes before Judge 
Knight, you'll go to the penitentiary; but for your 
wife's sake it shan't go there. But you must go 
away from Clarksville, and stay away, and if so 
I'll keep the secret- And now, Bob Durham, 3'ou 
old villain, if you are not out of " Ivy Bush " by 
to-morrow night you and Dick McNiel both will be 
indicted for conspiracy and forgery and perjury." 

" Well, Colonel, I was a gwine to leave any- 
how. Col. McNiel told me to do just what I did. 
I didn't mean no harm." 

And so "Ivy Bush" came back to its owners. 



i^OL. BILLUPS had become much interested 
^*-^ in his young friend. The father of Roger 
had been his brigade commander in Virginia, 
and there was a warm affection between the 
two officers; and when Roger asked what he was 
to pay for his services, the Colonel refused 
to receive any compensation. After Roger had 
told him of the loss of everything, and of his 
anxiety to be admitted to the bar, the Colonel 
said to him: "Well, apply now. You have read 
enough law to begin to practice, and I am sure 
you can pass an approved examination. And as 
you are going to move to this county, it is best for 
you to be admitted in this court." 

So Roger made his application, and was exam- 
ined by a committee of lawyers. After it was 
over Judge Knight said to him: " Your examina- 
tion, Mr. Lawson, has been very creditable. You 
show an unusual acquaintance with the principles 
of law, and are well up in your reading. I pre- 
dict for you a bright future." 


The next thing to be done was to remove the 
family, so Roger went to Liberty. He found his 
father's old manager not unwilling to take " Pine 
Lodge " in full payment for all arrears. 

"The fact is, Mr. Roger," said the overseer, 
" I mout have managed niggers, and I reckon I 
did, pretty well when they was niggers; but now, 
when a nigger is a little better than a white man, 
somebody else can git my job. I am a gwine to 
stay in the pine woods and git along without 'em." 

There were few debts to pay, and the devasta- 
tion of Sherman's army had made it an easy mat- 
ter to move what they left behind them. Old Jack 
and Aunt Judy, and young Jack and Chloe, and 
Mammy were going to move with the family. 
*' The truth is, Missus," said Mammy, " I's been 
takin' car' of you so long I's just obleeged to go 
wid you." 

There were the three mules and the wagon, and 
Roger traded off some cows which had escaped 
the raiders, and bought another mule. They had 
the carriage still, and the wagon, and the lighter 
goods were loaded in the wagon, and the heavier 
goods sold; and in their own conveyances they 
made the slow journey toward their new old 
home. There was still several hundred dollars 
of the money for which the plate was sold, but 


there was quite a family of helpless dependents to 
be provided for. Old Jack and Mammie had 
done no hard work for years, Aunt Judy had done 
nothing but cook, and Chloe was simply a house- 
maid. The young readers of this chronicle have 
read but little if they have not seen many allusions 
to the fate of the poor negroes, who gave two hun- 
dred years of unrequited labor to their white mas- 
ters. The fact was, no race of mere laborers were 
ever better paid, for no race was ever so universally 
provided for as this race was. The able-bodied 
were by no means all who were to be fed and 
clothed, and the consumers were always greatly 
more numerous than the producers. To Roger, 
to abandon these faithful old slaves was not to be 
thought of, and so Mammy had her place in the 
carriage and old Jack on the driver's seat, as he 
had done in all the years gone by. Old Squire 
Bass had insisted that the family should be 
brought at once to his home, and should remain 
there until the effects of Bob Durham's shiftless 
ways could be remedied. The warm greeting of 
the motherly old woman was all the more tender 
because of the sad changes which had passed 
over the home of her friend. 

The prospect before the brave young soldier 
was not a bright one: A farm, neglected and run 


down; a house, dilapidated, widi no furniture in 
it; three helpless old negroes, and an invalid 
mother and delicate sister; a profession just en- 
tered upon, and all the way untried, v/as before 
him. His heart grew somewhat faint at the pros- 
pect, but he could not forget how God had blessed 
them in the past, and he could trust him for the 
future. As they passed through Athens he had 
purchased some plain furniture and some needful 
supplies, for which he was to send the wagon 
after the travelers had reached their destination. 
While they were waiting for these things, and 
while the servants were getting the house in hab- 
itable shape, the little family remained at the home 
of Squire Bass. 

Up to this time they had not realized how 
changed w^as their worldly condition, and now as 
Roger saw himself a poor, dependent, and helpless 
man, while he cared little for himself, he could not 
but feel great anxiety for his mother and Helen. 
Upon them as 5"et no real hardship had come, but 
what was now before them? 

There were no people who faced the great 
changes after the war with a braver heart than 
many of those v/ho had been brought up in luxury, 
and on none did the storm blow with a fiercer 
blast. Ro^er and Helen were not braver than ten 


thousand others who found themselves paupers 
when they had been princes, and Roger might 
have despaired but for his sister's courage and his 
mother's faith. Helen was never so bright and 
cheery. The poor mother was too sad at the re- 
membrance of what had been to consider the out- 
side surroundings. The only seriously discon- 
tented one was Aunt Judy. She took her venge- 
ance out on Chloe, whom she scolded unmerci- 
fully, and found some relief in the bitterness with 
which she denounced " dem poor trash w'at's bin 
tryin' to tief Master's place." 

The wagon, with the plain poplar bedsteads, the 
cheap washstand and bureau, had arrived, and 
then it was sent over to Squire Bass's after the 
bedding, which had been left there. Throwing 
her palmetto hat on her curls, Helen coiled herself 
up on the mattresses and rode over to " Ivy Bush" 
as joyously as a schoolgii"!. 

" Bless her dear heart," said the old lady, " she 
is just as happy as if she had not lost her for- 

When the mother came " Ivy Bush " was like 
home again. The hardships of war had been good 
discipline for people who were to lose all, and 
"Pine Lodge" had prepared the way for " Ivy 
Bush." Aunt Judy had seen to it that the house 


was neatly scoured, and Helen had made her 
mother's chamber as cosy as a daughter's good 
good taste could make. it. • The honeysuckle and 
sweet shrub sent their fragrance through the 
chamber, a nice supper had been prepared, and 
when James Bass brought over the mother in the 
afternoon " Ivy Bush " looked like home again. 



fHE next clay after the family were snugly 
housed was Sunda3^ It was the day when 
the circuit preacher came to his appointment. 
The good mother was not strong enough to go out 
to service, but Roger and Helen went, and Roger 
put his Church certificate into the preacher's hand 
and announced himself as ready for work. The 
Sunday school had not been organized for want of 
a superintendent, and the preacher in charge se- 
lected the young lawyer for the place. The peo- 
ple around the church were many of them very 
ignorant, as they v/ere very poor, and Helen and 
Roger found a large field for an3Mvork they wished 
to do, and I have always found it to be a fact that 
if we are willing to do the work nearest to us we 
always find enough of it. 

Col. Billups had kindly invited Roger to share 
his office, and gave him the use of his books, and 
proffered to give him such instruction as an old 
lawyer could give to a J^oung one. " Now, Law- 
son," he said, "you have just begun to prepare 


for work. You know enough law to begin to 
practice, and enough to begin the careful study. 
You are here in a quiet, retired country town, and 
it is little likely there will ever be a demand for a 
knowledge of those subjects which have engaged 
the best legal minds, but my idea is that the brief- 
less lawyer of a country village should fit himself 
to be the Chief Justice of the United States. I 
have here a library which, while not large, has the 
best books in it. Some of these came from my 
father; many of them I have bought for myself. 
I have studied questions concerning trusts, remain- 
ders, tenures, inheritances which I have never met 
with, and never expected to meet with, but when I 
do meet with them I am ready for them. Another 
thing, when j^ou have a case do not consider the 
amount of the fee nor the importance of the case. 
Prepare as carefully for a case before Squire Lark- 
ins as for one before the Supreme Court. I am 
not going to take you into partnership, not because 
T am not willing to divide practice with you, but 
because it will be best for you to win your own 
spurs. If you were to win a case by your labor 
alone, and were my partner, I would get the credit 
for it; but all I can do for you I v/ill do. My of- 
fice is yours and my books are 3'ours, so put up 
your shingle and go to work." 


The young lawyer learns very soon that he must 
be patient, that there is no easy way to success, 
and while Roger did not enjoy his want of prac- 
tice, he obeyed the Colonel's counsel, and gave 
himself to hard stud}^ 

Old Jack took charge of the farm. He could 
not work much, but he could superintend. 

Young Jack, had married Chloe, and taken 
her to a cabin of her own, where Aunt Judy could 
no longer reproach her for her divers shortcom- 
ings. Young Jack was the only active worker, 
and as it was not likely that the farm would do 
much more than pay its own way, and as the de- 
posit in the Central Railroad Bank was getting 
alarmingly low, the question of fees became one 
of real importance. 

At last Roger got a case, if not a fee. The 
poor woman who came to his office was a forlorn 
specimen of that class of people known all over 
the South by different names: sometimes as 
" crackers," sometimes as " mossbacks," some- 
times as " sand lappers," and sometirries as 
" poor whites." They were born in poverty and 
brought up in ignorance. They had alwa3'S 
lived in log cabins, and always on hard fare. 
They were, many of them, pure, honest, kind- 
hearted, and in their way religious. They were 


often land owners, and not unfrequently rose 
from their lowly estate into a higher place. 
James Jenkins was a good specimen of this class. 
He had moved over from Anderson, in South Car- 
ohna, to Habersham some years before, and set- 
tled on a little farm on Duke's Creek. The farm 
had only forty acres in it, and of these onl}^ twen- 
ty were free from timber ; but it w^as productive, and 
the plain man lived a contented and an independent 
life upon it. The war broke out, and he left the 
farm to go into the arm}^ He took his young wife 
and her four children to her father's, in South Car- 
olina. He rented the farm, but the party renting 
it had gone away and left it. 

Bill Hillborn was a land stealer, and when he 
saw that the place was vacated he took possession 
of it, and claimed it as his own. 

Jenkins went with McMillan's regim.ent to the 
war, and there was no braver man or better sol- 
dier in Lee's arm}-; but when Gettysburg was 
fought, and the shattered Twenty-fourth came off 
the field, Jenkins was missing. His comrades never 
knew what became of him. He was abreast wdth 
the foremost in that awful charge when they saw 
him last. In a grave marked " unknow-n " he 
sleeps on Pennsylvania soil. He never knew why 
there was a ,war. Indeed, he hardly knew that 


there was a North. He merely knew, he said, that 
" Bob McMillan was raisin' a rigiment, and that he 
ought to fight for libbuty, as his granddaddy had 
done in the Revolution war." 

Poor Nancy Jenkins, with her four children, was 
on her father's Httle farm in Anderson, S. C, when 
her husband was killed. The war had been two 
years over when her father died, and she was 
homeless. She got a kind neighbor to bring her 
over the mountains to her old home in Georgia. 
When she reached it she found a stranger in the 
cabin. He had rented it, he said, from Squire 
Hillborn, and had put in his crops, and while he 
was mighty sorry for the poor woman, he could 
not help her. She could stay here until she 
could get some satisfaction, he said, and that he 
would go with her to Clarksville to see a lawyer 
about her rights. 

She came to see Col. Billups, and told him her 
story. He had known her husband, and he be- 
lieved her stor}^, but he told her at once that he 
was the attorney for Hillborn in several important 
cases, and could not take the case, but introduced 
her to Roger. " You see," she said to the young 
attorney, " when me and Jim was married my' 
pappy give me a hundred dollars, and Jim had 
made another hundred, and as he had a critter and 


a little waggin and I had some things, we thought 
that we'd strike out for ourselves. So weuns come 
over here, and Mr. Richardson, what is gone some- 
whar, I don't know whar, but I heerd it was to the 
Alabam, he sold Jim a little plantation up on the 
crick. Thar warn't a stick amiss on it when we 
bought it, but we went up thar and built our cabin, 
and was gittin' on right peart when this here awful 
war come on, and he went to the army, and that 
is the last I ever seed of him. I couldn't write, and 
I couldn't git back till arter daddy died, and then I 
had nowhar to go. I got Mr. Smith to bring me 
here, and when I got back I found that Bill Hillborn 
said that he'd bought our plantation, and I jist 
know that he didn't, and I want you to take the 
law on him, and git it back for me and my chil- 

*'Well, Mrs. Jenkins," said Roger, "where is 
your deed? " 

" The deed? What's that? " 

" Why, the paper Mr. Richardson gave your 

"Why no! I never seed that arter Jim left 
with Mr. Richardson to go to the Squire's, but I 
know it's my land." 

" Do you know whether the deed was re- 
corded? " 


" Wh}', I don't know what 3'ou mean by ac- 
corded ! " 

"Recorded! I mean, did he give it to the 

" I don't know. There was two or three clerks 
in Mr. Stanford's store, where we use to trade, 
and he mout a given it to one of 'em; but I know 
it's my Ian'." 

" Well, I am sure it is. Now you go back 
there and stay. I think Mr. Moore will let you 
stay on the place, and I will do my best for you. 
Who was the squire to whom your husband went 
when he bought the land? " 

" Why, Squire Williams, in Nacoochee." 

"Is he there now? " 

"No; he's gone too." 

" Do you know where? " 

"No; I hain't hearn." 

" Well, I will do all I can for you, but I can't 
promise much; but you try and stay on the 

The first thing to do was to see Hillborn. This 
land trader was famous for his large holding of 
wild lands. He succeeded in getting tract after 
tract, and it was rumored that his papers were 
often none of the best. He was always in court, 
and often victorious, seldom defeated. He was 


oily and plausible, and had money. Roger called 
him into his office, and asked him about the land. 

" Well, Squire," said Hillborn, " the poor 
woman thinks she's got a right. Jim did live on 
the place, but I let him live thar for nothin', for I 
believe in bein' good to pore folks, and I never 
charged nothin' ; but I have a deed from Billy 
Richardson to Dick McNiel, and I bought it from 
him, and the deed's done recorded. I'm sorry 
for her, but I can't help her. I'm a pore man 
myself, and you know the Scriptur' says: 'He 
that provideth not for his own house is wus than a 
infidel.' " 

There seemed but little hope for the widow. 
The deed from Richardson seemed all right, and 
Richardson was gone, the squire who witnessed it 
was gone, and the other witnesses were gone; and 
yet Roger was sure she spoke truly. He must 
use a little strategy. 

Dick Moore, who was tenant, had a kind heart, 
and Bill Hillborn was a hard landlord. Dick was 
sure the widow had a just claim, and so he agreed 
with Roger to quietly vacate the house before his 
time was out, and leave the widow in possession. 
Then the suit of ejectment must come from Hill- 

Hillborn did not live in Habersham, but in Cher- 


okee, and it was only after Moore was out of the 
way and the widow was in her cabin that he 
found out the true stains. He was in a towering 
rage. He came to the cabin, dismounting at the 
gate. " Hello! " he said, for he saw a large cur 
dog on the front steps, and was afraid to come in. 
" Who lives here?" 

"The owners of this place, that's who! " said 
a determined voice. 

" I am the owner of this place." 

"No; that you hain't! " 

" Well, I Vvfill show you that I am ! so you'd bet- 
ter leave here." 

" But I hain't a gwine to do it!" 

"Well, I'll put 3^ou out," and he started as 
though he would come in. 

" You will? Well, I reckon you won't! " and 
she reached over the door and brought down her 
husband's single-barrel shotgun. " This gun's 
loaded with buckshot, Bill Hillborn, and if ye 
step in that gate Fll put the whole load in ye. 
Say, Tige, watch him! " 

The cur bristled and showed his teeth. 

Muttering " I'll take the law on 3^e," the dis- 
comfited land stealer went his way to Cleveland, 
to see a lawyer and get ready for the suit of 


Possession was nine-tenths of the law, but not 
ten-tenths. The widow was not hkely to be 
ejected by a justice of the peace, but when the 
court came on, if Richardson could not be found, 
the deed might stand. 

Roger's old friend, Squire Bass, might help 
him to find Richardson. He mentioned it to him. 

"Why yes, Roger; I know jist whar he is. 
He sold out here, and went over to Randolph 
County, in the Alabam. 1 got a letter from him 
a little while ago. His post office is Wedowee." 

*' Do you think I can get him here to court? " 

"Why, yes. When he writ me last winter he 
said he would be here after craps w^as laid by, if 
he could come; and I expect he'll be glad to 

The court came on. There was but little busi- 
ness in Cleveland, and the judge called the case 
of " Richard Roe for Wm. Hillborn vs. John 
Doe and Mary Jenkins, writ of ejectment." Col. 
Billups having refused to take the case, Billy Mar- 
tin, a young lawyer, was employed by Hillborn. 
The young lawyer said the case was a plain one. 
The property was his client's, and the deed pro- 
duced would show the chain of deeds to Hillborn 
from Richardson and McNiel. The poor woman 
was doubtless demented. The terrible war, which 


the gentlemen of the jury knew was a rich man's 
war and a poor man's fight, had unsettled her 
mind. He would make no speech, but just intro- 
duce the two deeds as witnesses. He presented 
the deeds, i. A deed from Billy Richardson to 
Richard McNiel. 2. A deed from McNiel to 
Hillborn. He had no other witness to present. 
"And now," he said, "the case is with you, my 
Brother Lawson." 

" Mr. Sheriff," said Lawson, " call Billy Pvich- 

" Billy Richardson! Bill}^ Richardson! Billy 
Richardson! ' Come into court!" 

William Hillborn turned pale, and paler still 
when in walked Billy Richardson, who sold him 
the land. 

Roger, after he had sworn the witness, asked 
him: " What is your name? " 

" Billy Richardson." 

" Where do you live? " 

"In Alabama." 

" Did you ever live in this county? " 
."I did." 

" Did you get a patent to lot No. 205, Fifth Dis- 
trict of Habersham? " 

"I did." 

" Did you sell that land to Dick McNiel? " 


"I did not." 

*' Did you ever sell it? " 

"I did." 

"To whom?" 
, " To James Jenkins." 

" Did you sign this deed? " 

"I did not." 

The lawyer for Hillborn got up and said: 
"May it please the Court, I beg to withdraw 
from this case at this juncture. The deed upon 
which I based my plea is undoubtedly a forgery. 
Whether with cognizance of my client or without 
it, I cannot tell. I hope your Honor will order 
a verdict for the defendant." 

"The court," said the judge, "orders a ver- 
dict for the defendant, with all costs to the 

The grateful woman burst into tears as she 
turned to Roger. " God bless you. Squire," she 
said; " if the pra'rs of a widow 'oman will do you 
any good, you shall have 'em, but that's all I've 
got to pay." 

Hillborn came to Roger as soon as court ad- 
journed. "Well, Colonel, I'll take my affidavy 
I paid good money to Dick McNiel for that land, 
and I was a gwine to let the widder stay thar. I 
just wanted my rights." 


"Well, Squire," said Roger, " you will save 
yourself another suit and some trouble, some hard 
questions, if you pay this widow the back rent for 
the six years jou've had the land, for I will prose- 
cute you on the criminal side and sue you on the 
civil side of the court if you do not settle at once." 

"Well, Colonel, that's pretty hard, but a man 
must put up with a heap of wrong things in this 
wicked world, even if he is honest. I don't know 
much, and Dick McNiel was a smart lawyer, and 
he cheated me; but I am willing to do something 
for the widder. I never got nothin' from the place 
scacely, but I'll pay her $25 and drop it." 

"No, Squire, you can't get off that easy. If 
you will give the widow a good horse and forty 
bushels of corn which Moore owed you for rent 
and all the fodder and $25 in money, I'll drop the 
case; but if you don't, I'll have you arrested to- 
night for a conspiracy to defraud, and have the 
grand jury to take j^our case in hand." 

" Well, Squire, I ain't the man to contend. I'd 
ruther folks would wrong me than wrong them, so 
I'll do it." 

The papers were fixed, and the poor widow went 
to her home with a happy heart. 

Roger's skill in managing the case excited much 
admiration, and his noble devotion to the penniless 


woman placed him in a high place in the hearts of 
the people of both counties; but there were no 
fees, and the deposit in Savannah was about gone. 
But acts Hke this of Roger are not apt to escape 
the notice of a good Lord, and he knows how to 
bring us out of the most trying embarrassments. 
So our young lawyer found it. The section in 
which he had his home bordered on the gold fields 
of Upper Georgia. Indeed, the first gold ever dis- 
covered in Georgia was discovered in Habersham 
County in 1829. An English company had in- 
vested largetyin the mines, and it was now having 
a long canal dug through the county. There was 
much legal work to be done, and Mr. Sterling, 
who was the manager of the company, was look- 
ing for a solicitor. He was in the courthouse 
when Roger won his first case. He was so pleased 
with the young attorney that he decided to try and 
secure him for a solicitor for the company, and to 
Roger's astonishment and gratification he offered 
him one hundred dollars per month as salary, and 
paid the first month down in advance. 

With a heart full of gratitude to God the young 
lawyer returned home to bear the good tidings to 
Helen and his mother. The question of his future 
v/as now pretty well settled. He won his way 
rapidly, and before he had been at the bar twelve 


months he had won an independent position as a 
lawyer. He was enabled now to provide greater 
comforts for his mother and sister and lay the 
foundation for the library he so much needed. It 
was well for him that he had a preceptor so wise 
as Col, Billups, and that he followed so faithfully 
his counsel. He had not completed his education 
even so far as the schools could carry him, and 
his reading for his profession had been largely de- 
voted to the books bearing upon the practice; but 
now he enlarged his area of study, and made him- 
self acquainted with those liberal studies which lie 
at the foundation of all true culture. He little 
knew how soon his knowledge of the history of 
the past should stand him in good place in an im- 
portant position. 



^jlf^O write the stor}^ of Roger I must needs say 
^ something of the poHtical condition of the 
country just after the war, but I assure my read- 
ers that if I could justly do so I would never refer 
to the events recorded in this chapter. The courage 
with which the North fought for the Union ; the 
brave effort of the South to save the Constitution, 
as she read it, were events worthy of all admira- 
tion, and both participants could be commended; 
but how any American who was freeborn, and who 
held to the traditions of the past, could believe that 
the reconstruction measures adopted after the war 
was over were defensible, save as measures born 
of times when men were in no condition to think 
coolly or act justly, I cannot see. This is not the 
place to tell the story of how Gov. Jenkins was 
deposed, and how Gov. Johnson was placed in of- 
fice, and of how Gen, Ruger, a general in the 
army, superseded him ; of how the negroes Vv^ere 
given the right of franchise, and a convention to 
reorganize everything was called, and of how the 



old and wise men of the country .were shut out from 
places in that convention. The civilization of our 
section was fearfully menaced. Men a thousand 
miles av.'ay, utterly ignorant of the ditFiculties in the 
way and ruled by bitter partisanship, were forcing 
upon their countrymen measures which threat- 
ened the very destruction of all social life. 

The men who were thus experimenting were 
sufficiently honest, and as far as they knew were 
acting wisely, but the certain ruin which would 
have resulted if their measures had been carried 
out would not have been less ruin because tTie 
parties who wrought It meant no ill. 

There were four classes of white people who 
were concerned and formed parties. There was 
a large majority of the people who held on to most 
of the old traditions. They were willing to sur- 
render those, and those only, which the fortunes 
of war had forced them to give up. Two things, 
slaveholding and the right to nullify and secede, 
were among the things surrendered. They were 
willing to recognize the civil right of the negro be- 
fore the law as equal to their own, but they w^ere 
not willing to show him any special favor nor in- 
vest him with political power. The Southern Re- 
publicans were willing to go farther than their 
conservative fellow-citizens, and accept as wisest 


what the moderate Republicans said must be 
done, negro suffrage and all, and to give what 
they claimed. Then there were the scalawags, 
renegade Southerners, who were willing to do any- 
thing to secure place and money; and then there 
were the carpetbaggers, adventurous Northerners, 
who saw an opportunity to secure positions of honor 
in the South which their obscurity forbade their 
hoping to secure in the land from which they came. 

It was evident to thoughtful men that the wisest 
and truest were needed as they were never need- 
ed before, but by the strange infatuation which 
marked the times they were forbidden to take part 
in the convention. 

To the promising young men who had not been 
excluded the country turned with hope, and when 
the election came Roger Lawson was chosen a 
delegate from his county. I am not writing his- 
tory, nor even giving facts which can be estab- 
lished by the records, so the readers, of the account 
of the Georgia Convention will look in vain for the 
name of Roger Lawson, as one might search for 
that of Bois Gilbert among the ancient Crusa- 
ders or Rob Roy in Scottish annals. Perhaps 
those who read between the lines may meet no 
difficulty in finding the place our young soldier 
took in the celebrated convention. 

234 "^"^ ^°^' -^^ GRAY. 

The Georgia Republicans and the more mod- 
erate carpetbaggers joined with the young men 
to prevent the absolute ruin of the State. 

Among the members of the Convention was an- 
other Lawson, Robert Lawson, from Liberty. He 
was very black, but no member of the convention 
was in more perfect form. His dress was faultless, 
his manners were perfect, for no man understood 
the usage of good society better than our old friend, 
Bob. He had gone with the Federals, and had 
been employed as body servant by one of the gen- 
erals. He went with his new master to Massachu- 
setts, and was there treated with distinguished 
courtesy. He took on the manners of the people 
among whom he was, and when he came back to 
Liberty he felt that he was ready to take any posi- 
tion of dignity and trust. He joined the Loyal 
League, he was selected as their standard bearer, 
and he was elected to the convention. He was well 
dressed, well behaved, and silent, and so made a 
good average member. He generally watched the 
course of the leading Radicals, and took that. 
When Roger met him the former master was as 
kind as he used to be when Bob waited on the 
table, and while Bob called him Colonel instead of 
Mass Roger, he had evidently still a warm place 
in his heart for his former owner. They were 


equals now before the law, and in many places 
Robert Lawson, the colored gentleman from Lib- 
erty, was in higher esteem than the independent 
young rebel from Habersham. 

The times were perilous. The carpetbaggers 
were shrewd, ambitious, and unscrupulous; the 
scalawags, subservient and venial; the Georgia 
Republicans, cautious; and the young Democrats, 
daring and defiant. A measure came before the 
convention that was very menacing. The mak- 
ing of the provision would bring about very seri- 
ous results. The carpetbaggers were, to a man, 
in favor of it, as were the scalawags. The mod- 
erate Republicans opposed it, and so did the 
Democrats, and it depended upon the negro vote 
' how it would go, and the negro contingent was 
largely led by the "gentleman from Liberty," as 
the President of the Convention called him. 

Judge Bone, Republican, one of the leaders of 
the moderates, came to Roger, who led the 
young Democrats: "Lawson, if these fellows 
have their way, the State is ruined; and they 
will have it, unless you can do some mighty fine 
work with the niggers. Your old servant, Bob, is 
the leader among them. If you can get him to op- 
pose the bill, you can save the State. It is worth 
trying. I have done my best with him ; but Azariah 


Fuller, from Maine, has a stronger hold on him 
than a Southern man. If you can't control him, 
the case is hopeless." 

As Roger passed Bob at adjournment he said 
to him: " Bob, come to my room at the National 
to-night. I want to see you." 

" Tank you, Colonel. I'll present myself dar, 
sah, on de proper time." 

When he came in and Roger had given him a 
chair and a cigar, he said to him: " Well, Bob, 
times have changed, haven't they?" 

" Yes, Mass Colonel; times is changed." 

" But, Bob, you are a Georgian? " 

"Yes, sah." 

"And a Liberty County man? " 

"Yes, sah." 

" From the old Medway neighborhood?" 

" Dat's a fac'." 

" They were a great people? " 

" Dat dey was. Mass Colonel." 

" Bob, you've got their reputation in your keep- 

" Surely, sah " — 

" Bob, will you disgrace them?" 

"No, sah." 

" Bob, will you be led around like a slave by 
any white man? " 

" No, sah. I's free. I's gwine to stay free." 


" Now, Bob, will 3-011 let Mr. Azariah Fuller 
lead you by the nose? " 

" No, sah, not if I knows myself." 

"Well, Bob, that's what he thinks he will do, 
and that's what I think he is not going to do. 
Now, Bob, when that vote comes to-morrow, show 
yourself a Liberty County gentleman, and act the 
man. Just get up and say: 'Mr. President, I've 
nothing against my old owners, sir, and I want 
peace, and I am a going to vote against that bill.' 
Don't say anything to Fuller; keep quiet. Bob, 
did I ever go back on you? " 

"Never, Mass Roger, nebber no time." 

" Well, you can count on me now, and Fll count 
on you." 

The people held their breath when the ayes and 
nays were called the next day, and when the name 
of Mr. Lawson, of Liberty, was called. Bob rose. 
He was dressed, as usual, in the height of st^'le. 
He had the air of a statesman. In a stentorian 
voice he said: " Mr. Prisident, sir, I's nuthin' agin 
my old owners, sah; I's not a gwine to 'flict 'em, 
sir, and, sir, I votes no." 

The galleries broke out in a cheer. Mr. Azariah 
Fuller looked chapf alien, but the State was saved.* 

* If anybody should fail to find this incident in any reputa- 
ble Georgia history, they must remember that history doesn't 
tell everything, but leaves much to our iinao-ination. 


"GET'TIIEE behind me, SATAN." 

fHE convention was over, and the race for a 
Governor and members of the Legislature was 
to be had. The leading men of Habersham 
wanted Roger to run for the House of Represent- 
atives. He was not unaspiring. He realized that 
the times were perilous and the work devolving on 
the Legislature would be very important, and after 
he was nominated he was anxious to be elected. 
His election to the convention had been without 
opposition, but not so now. He had not reached 
his position of popular favor without exciting feel- 
ings of envy on the part of the less successful. 

Young McAtee was a lawyer of a few more 
years than Roger. He had read Blackstone and 
a book on Evidence and Cobb's Digest, and had 
been admitted to the bar. He had read little since 
that. He knew how to draw a deed, make a will, 
or sue out a warrant. He was ready for any- 
thing, however, which came along, and before the 
justice of the peace or a petit jury he was really a 
power. He was, in truth, smart, unscrupulous, 



and airile. He asked for the nomination of the 
Democrats to the House, but did not receive it, 
and announced himself as an independent candi- 
date. He was well known, largely connected, 
and was hand in hand with the moonshiners. He 
threw himself into the campaign with all ardor. 

Roger was not disposed to neglect opportunities 
to make himself known and popular. He went to 
the school exhibitions, he went to the barbecues, 
he made speeches, he went to the homes of the 
people ; but he positively refused to treat or allow 
any others to do so for him. His friends became 
alarmed. McAtee was treating vigorously, and 
was making headway. 

Squire Roberts was one of Roger's constituents, 
and he became anxious. " See here, Lawson," 
he said, " this ain't gwine to do. Politics in this 
country hain't run according to the ten command- 
ments. You've got to lay down a part of your 
religion till you whip this fight." 

" Well, Squire, I can't do it. If the good peo- 
ple of Habersham County want me to represent 
them, I'll do it; but I am not going to get my 
seat by a perjur}-." 

"Well, no. But you stand off, and we'll 
manage for you. You just quit that Sunday 
school business till after the election, and quit 


these temperance spcakin's, and your friends 
will fix you." 

" No, Squire, no." 

" Well, you're the queerest politicianer I ever 
struck up with. Why, when John Thompson — 
and he was a locus preacher — was a runnin' for tax 
collector, he jest went plumb blind and deaf till the 
election was over." 

It was evident Roger was going to be beaten if 
he continued his course. Col. Billups came to 
him. " See here, Lawson, you must be elected. 
Too much depends on it to let scruples stand in 
the way. I know you are right in principle, but 
we are now in a war, and all is fair in love and 
war. There is no moral wrong in simply holding 
some things in abeyance and allowing some things 
questionable to be done for greater good." 

" But, Colonel, I cannot. I owe you much, but 
I can't do this; it is wrong," 

Roger was to be beaten, so everybody said. 
The election came on. The vote at Clarksville 
would settle it. James Bass and the Squire were 
at work at their precinct and would take care of 
that. A crowd of Confederate soldiers were on 
hand in town, and Andy Rhodes, who had come 
back from the Nation, was there. He had just 
come in the week before. He had done his best 

"get thee behind me, SATAN." 24I 

for Roger, and now when the election came on 
Andy was at work for his friend. The tide seemed 
against Roger, but there were many friends who 
stood by him. At last Dr. Phillips said: "Andy, 
you were born in the cove ; you know the boys 
there; you m.ust make a speech." 

" O yes ! O yes ! O yes ! Andy Rhodes is going 
to make a speech." 

The crowd drew near. Andy jumped on a 

goods box. " Boys," he said, "you know Andy 

Rhodes is better at fightin' than speakin', and you 

know he hain't the best man in the world, and he 

is a leetle too fond maybe of mountain dew; but 

you know Andy never goes back on a friend. 

Now Roger Lawson's daddy was rich, and there 

weren't nobody's daddy poorer than mine; but 

Capt. Lawson use to speak kind to me when I 

was a barfoot boy, and when my daddy died he 

bought the coffin for m}^ old mammy, and when 

he went to the war I went with him, and out in 

camp at Cotton Hill I tuck the mumps ; and then 

I had the measles, and come mighty nigh a dyin' ; 

and this here same Roger Lawson, he nussed me 

like a bab}^. I was with him when he was shot 

the fust time, and I tuck him offen the battlefield; 

and I seed him when he fell at Gett3^sburg. I 

know him, and so do you. He's the ginuine stuff. 


If Bill McAtee, who is a tryin' to beat him, ever 
smelt gunpowder, or ever helped a poor man, who 
ever hearn of it? When the Widder Jenkins was 
about to lose her land, who saved it for her? " 

"Why, Capt. Lawson did, bless his heart!" 
said an earnest and excited voice, " and I wish I 
had a hundred votes. He should have every one 
of 'em." It was the voice of the widow. She 
had just come to town. 

" Boys, will you go back on a one-armed Con- 
fed, say will you? " 

" No ! no ! hurrah for Lawson ! " 

And so Roger went to the Legislature by a hand- 
some majority. 



"pT is not my purpose to tell of Roger's life 
^ as a legislator, nor to give a. history of that 
motley body known as the Bullock Legislature. 
The time has not come, perhaps, to speak of these 
things dispassionately, and we are not yet, it may 
be, able to do justice to all concerned; and then, 
besides, I am not writing a history of events, but 
telling a stor}^ of how one of -my young country- 
men, by energy and uprightness, overcame the ob- 
stacles that were thrown in his way by the unpar- 
alleled changes of the war. Nor need I try to 
conceal the fact that the aim of this little chronicle 
is to arouse in the hearts of m}^ young countrj^men 
aspirations after noble things, and that my story 
has a moral. It has been too generally accepted 
as a truth that young men are to be ruled b}' pas- 
sion and appetite; that tenderness to mothers and 
consideration for sisters and, above all, loyalty to 
God are not to be expected in the average young 
man of good position. In these days when young 

men are divided into two classes — men and so- 



ciety men — I would be glad for my young readers 
to see, not a faultless young fellow, but one who 
had genuine piety and a high sense of gentlemanly 
honor and spirit of honest independence, which he 
cherished as his next best possession, and who 
was not to be conquered by difficulties. He was 
soon found to be a legislator with whom it was use- 
less to lobb}^, and men who had schemes passed 
by the young member from Habersham to try their 
arts elsewhere. The temptations which surrounded 
the young member of the Legislature were not a 
few, but it was soon seen that those who kept the 
private bottle in the committee room, or who formed 
the Poker Club, which met in the same place, or 
who went to the disreputable exhibitions, or worse 
houses, which are always found in a city in which 
legislative sessions are held, had no attractions for 
him; nor did the sneers at the Christian states- 
man, or the Puritan in politics, have any intiuence 
over him. But if I keep my promise not to write 
a history of these, the darkest days Georgia ever 
saw, I must leave my young legislator in the Opera 
House in Atlanta, which had just been secured 
for the use of the government, and go to Haber- 
sham to see Helen and her mother. " Ivy Bush " 
had been wonderfully transformed in these two 
years. As Roger's means increased he added to 


the comforts of his mother's home. And old 
Jack, long his mistress's gardener, too eld now 
to do much more than work around the house, 
was constantly improving the garden and grounds. 
Beautiful woodbines had been brought by him 
from the woods and planted around the front 
piazza; the sweet shrub and honeysuckle had 
been transplanted from the woods to the garden; 
a number of roses, white and red, were in the 
yard; and the old time flowers, touch-me-nots and 
jonquils and nasturtiums and Iwacinths and tulips 
and verbenas and pinks and dahlias, were in rich 
abundance. The neglected orchard had been 
pruned, and new trees had been planted, and old 
Jack had made the kitchen garden contribute 
richly to the comforts of the table. The flocks of 
geese and ducks which floated so gracefully on 
the waters of the Sequee, and the crowds of chick- 
ens, large and small, and of turkeys, dignified 
and venerable, told of Helen's thrift and Mam- 
my's care. The triweekly mail brought the jVcvj 
York Observer of old times, a little too highly 
flavored with war seasoning 3'et, but still the good 
old Observer, and now Roger's Advocate and the 
weekly secular papers came regularly to break 
anything like seclusion from the world. " Dear 
Aunt Bass," as Helen called her, was still able to 


come over and spend the da}', and the wife of 
James came with her and brought her two little 
girls, who thought Aunt Helen was their kins- 
woman in realit}'. The little pony carriage fur- 
nished the mother and daughter a conveyance to 
Salem, where Helen attended the Sunday school, , 
and where James Bass, in Roger's absence, super- 
intended it. She was still a Presbyterian. A Meth- 
odist Presbyterian, she pleasantly called herself; 
but Mr, Wood, the Methodist preacher, was at 
" Ivy Bush " as often as he w^as at Squire Bass's, 
and as much at home there. Was there ever, will 
there be ever, a sweeter, cleaner, purer society 
than the country neighborhoods of Georgia used 
to present, and I hope present us still? 

Plelen was as happy as a bird. The sick knew 
her, the poor loved her, and while the rustics stood 
a little in awe of one who, ladj'-born, lad\'-bred, and 
lady-clad, could not but show what she was, there 
was not one of the plainest girls who did not re- 
spect her, nor one of the boys who would not have 
died in her defense. The plain, uneducated, bad- 
ly dressed girls who came from the hills around 
Salem soon learned that she had no feeling of con- 
tempt for them, but was their friend, and her in- 
fluence told in all the section about. She had one 
of the outhouses at "Ivy Bush" fitted up, and 


opened a school, and had a houseful of young 

While she was so faithfully at work there was 
quite a surprise in store for them all. Gen. Law- 
son had one hundred shares of Rosevelt Factory 
stock, counted as worthless, but which he had not 
disposed of. Judge Hansford, who was President 
of the company, had time to time written to Roger 
that he was rebuilding and refurnishing the mill, 
and had some hope that after all there would be a 
time, not far in the future, for paying dividends. 
One day in Atlanta he met Roger. " Well, Cap- 
tain, I'm glad to say the old Rosevelt is on her 
feet again. The Directors on Saturday declared a 
semiannual dividend of three dollars a share, and 
I will have the Treasurer to send you a check for 
it to-morrow." 

Roger had long wished to return to his old 
friend, Bingham, the amount of money that he 
had loaned him, but he had not been able to do so. 
He resolved to send him this three hundred dollars. 
He had heard no word from him for three years. 
Bingham had not written to him, very naturally, 
for he did not know where he was, and Roger was 
not willing to write to him in those days of bitter 
agitation, for he feared lest an}^ approach on his 
part might have been construed improperly. So 


he had kept silence; but now he could ^ safely 
break it, and he wrote to his old friend : 

House of Representatives, 

Atlanta, Ga., Nov., 1868. 

il/j Dear Tank: I have often thought of jou, and how grate- 
fully you can never know, since we parted at Fort Delaware; 
but you know how a gentleman feels and how impossible it has 
been for me, during the last three years, to do other than pre- 
serve the silence which has marked my course. But while I 
have said nothing, I assure you that you have had as warm a place 
in my heart as any living man. But I am not going to afi^dct you 
with a long letter, or with senliment. You were kind enough 
when I needed it to give me a help which I valued very much 
then and have been grateful for ever since. I should have made 
some recognition of your kindness long ago if I could have 
done so, but nearly all we had was swept away, and I was not 
able to do as I wished. I am glad to say I can now repay the 
loan in part, and I inclose you $300, New York exchange. 

We are li\ing in a pleasant little home in the mountains, at 
" Ivy Bush," near Clarksville, in Habersham County. There 
are only three of us: mother, Helen, and I. Old Jack and 
Mammy and our old friend. Young Jack, now the happy father 
of two black cherubs, are with us. 

I suppose, of course, you are married; and if you can come 
South, I wish you would come and see us and bring your wife. 
You can reach us easily now by a new railroad, the Air Line 
from Atlanta to Charlotte. 

Truly yours. Roger Lawson. 

In a week Roger received the following: 

Office Binghamton Mills, 
Binghamton, Conn., December 7, 186S. 
M\> Dear yohnny : I cannot tell you how glad I Avas to hear 


from you. I have been hoping to get a word from you for all 
these years. I am almost sorry you remembered the trifling 
kindness I showed you when you were in want of it. I am glad 
you are where I knew you would go when I parted from you: 
at the front. 

I am here in the cotton mill. ISIy good father had a large 
interest in this enterprise, and when he died, which he did two 
years ago, I was elected President of the company, and am now 
quite a man of business. 

No, I am not married. I wonder where you got that idea. 
I hope to be some time, when I can find the right kind of a girl, 
but I have not found her yet. My dear mother and sister Clara 
are with me, or rather I am with them. 

I thank you for the invitation you gave me, and I hope next 
spring to avail myself of it, as I wish to come South; and then, 
too, I would like so much to see your mother and sister again. 
So I think I will take Clara and run down South in May, and 
stop at " Ivy Bush " to see you. 

Give my kindest regards to your mother when j-ou write, and 
Miss Helen, and don't forget Jack. Congratulate him for me 
on his propitious marriage. 

Truly yours. John H. Bingham. 



Z'-pj^HEN Col. Bingham went home after receiv- 
^^-^'^ incj the letter from Roger he handed it to 
his sister, who read it to her mother. *' Well," said 
his sister, " are you going?" 

"Yes, I am going, and I want you to go with 

" Me? Why, I am not invited." 

" No, but my wife is, and you must take her 

" Why, my son," said the mother, " you are not 
in earnest, are you? " 

"Yes, mother; I want Clara to see the South, 
and I have some business with a firm in Atlanta, 
and must go there, and then I want to see the 
people who were so kind to me." 

"But are you not afraid of the Kuklux? the 
Tribune says that a Northern man's life is in dan- 
ger in Georgia unless he is a Democrat." 

" Yes, so it does, and perhaps it thinks so; but 
I know that it is not true. So when j'ou go in 

May to Sister Mary's, I will take Clara with mc to 



Georgia. When I tell you that Mrs. Lawson is a 
Presbyterian, and reads the New York Observer, 
you will be willing to trust us in her care, I am 

" Yes, I reckon there are some good people 
down in the unhappy country; and I know that 
she must be one of them. I can never forget how 
kind they all were to you, and I think, if you can, 
you ought to go ; but I am afraid that it is a little 

The spring months came on, and the proposed 
journey was made. To the Connecticut maiden 
the journey was of unceasing interest. She had 
never been farther south than New York, and now 
Philadelphia and Baltimore and Washington and 
Richmond were each visited, and then in the early 
part of May the cars stopped at Mt. Airy, and the 
handsome young Federal colonel and his gentle sis- 
ter stepped off. Roger was there to meet them, 
and Helen had come with him. She took the 
stranger girl by the hand, and kissed her as tender- 
ly as if she had been her sister. The meeting of 
Roger and Bingham was like that of two school- 

The letter from Clara to her mother, however, 
tells the story better than I can: 

" Ivy Bush," Habersham Co., Ga. 

My Dear Aloiher : Well, here I am. I can hardly believe 


that I am awake, everything is so strange and new to me. Our 
journey was an ovation. Tlie hurried letters I sent you can 
give you but a faint idea of the great j-ileasure with which a 
Connecticut girl visits the South for the first time. In Rich- 
mond I was delighted beyond measure. I went to the capitol, 
went into the old library, saw the pictures of the old gentlemen 
of the colony, visited Libby Prison and Belle Isle, and rode 
over the battlefields; and after our visit there was over, we took 
the railroad, going to Danville, and thence through North Car- 
olina and the foothills of the mountains, until we reached Mt. 
Airy. This is merely a station on the railroad. Clarksville is 
six miles north of it, and " Ivy Bush," where we are staying, is 
on the Sequee, three miles froin Clarksville. 

Helen and her brother were there to meet us. She kissed 
me like she had known me always, and greeted brother like an 
old friend. They had an old time carriage, and an old colored 
man (Uncle Jack, we call him) to drive it. Two fat mules were 
hitched to it. We did not go very fast, but if our team had been 
a fast one, the roads would have prevented it, for they are too 
hilly for fast travel. 

We reached "Ivy Bush" about dark. Mrs. Lawson was 
looking for us. She is a dear old lady, w^ho reminds me very 
much of you. She has a sweet, sad look on her face, and is 
very quiet. Poor woman! she has had a world of trouble. Her 
children are so sweet to her! Capt. Lawson is so thoughtful 
and gentle, and Helen takes all care from her. Dear old 
Mammy always calls her child yet, and watches over her like 
she was a child sure enough. 

" I\y Bush " is the sweetest, sunniest place that you ever 
saw, and the house as cozy as you would wish. Helen and I 
have the same room, and so have Capt. Lawson and brother, 
for the house is not a large one. 

They have three servants. Aunt Judy, the cook, has been 


with them always, and Mammy used to nurse Mrs. Lawson. 
Chloe, who does the housework, is the wife of Jack, who took 
care of brother and Capt. Lawson when they were both wounded. 
It is just as nice here as it can be, and I am delighted. I will 
write you more when I see more. I just send you this now. 
Affectionately, Clara. 

To a young woman from a New England village, 
the change to the mountains of Upper Georgia 
was a striking one, and Clara was thoroughly de- 
lighted with all she saw. Indeed, there are few 
sections of the country which are more attractive, 
in many of their features, than the mountain 
country of Upper Georgia; and in the middle of 
May, when the honeysuckle is in its glory, and 
robed in white and pink and crimson and orange, 
it sheds its fragrance to the breeze. When the 
dogwood is in its bridal robe, when there is the 
yellow jasmine and the red woodbine, and when 
the calycanthus with its exquisite perfume, and the 
red buds, and the grandfather graybeards, and the 
hawthorn, with the beautiful white clusters, and 
the fragrant crab apples are everywhere, and when 
beneath the feet are the violets and trilliums and 
pink roots and sweetbriers and ladies' slippers 
and the trailing arbutus, when the mocking bird 
sings, and the redbird flits like a flash of fire, and 
bluebirds twitter, and the humming birds dash 
from flower to flower— when all this was around 

254 '^^^^ ^°"^' ^^ GRAY. 

the fair girl, no wonder she was carried away 
with delight. 

Roger and Bingham, with their fishing rods, for 
the season of shooting was over, spent their days 
on the Sequee fishing for the black bass and the 
salmon trout and the smaller fish which are found 
in the stream. Bingham could only spend a week 
or two, and so Roger devoted all his time to him. 
A part of the time was given up to excursions. 
They went to the beautiful Nacoochee Valley and 
to Tallulah. Clara must tell in her letter of these 

journeys : 

" Ivy Bush," May, 1869. 

My Darling Mother: I have just returned from a most de- 
lightful excursion. Capt. Lawson made up a party to go over 
to Nacoochee and Mt. Yonah. There were six of us: Capt. 
Lawson, Mr. Bass, Brother, and Mrs. Bass, Helen, and I. We 
had fourteen miles to ride, so we began our journey as soon as 
it was bright enough to see our way. Our road was largely 
through forests until we reached the Nacoochee Valley, which 
is about two miles long. The Chattahoochee winds its way like 
a silver thread through the middle of it. Beautiful forest-cov- 
ered mountains are on every side of it, and Mt. Yonah, the 
loftiest of them, where we were going, borders it. We drove 
up the mountain until we could no longer drive, and then 
climbed on foot to the top. The view from this point was in- 
describably grand and beautiful. The vale of Nacoochee, with 
its charming little farms, nestled like a garden at our feet. 
The beautiful Chattahoochee wound its way southward. 
Looking south, as far as the eve could see was an ocean of 
green ; for from the height on which -we were it appeared to be 


an almost unbroken forest. Looking north and east and west, 
there were mountains, mountains, mountains. The indescrib- 
able purplish tint of the nearer ranges faded away into the del- 
icate blue of the far-distant peaks which tower above the blue 
range in North Carolina and Tennessee. There was no point 
to which the eye could be turned where there was not gi-andeur 
and beauty. We spent the morning on the mountain, and in 
the afternoon Ave came back to " Ivy Bush " again. Day after 
to-morrow we are to go to Tallulah, where Capt. Lawson says 
I will see the most picturesque scene this side of the Rocky 
Mountains. I am wonderfully well. My cheeks are tanned a 
little b}- being in the sun so much, but my appetite is magnifi- 
cent, and Aunt Judy tries herself cooking for me. 

Lovinglj', Clara. 

While Col. Bingham and Roger were watching 
their corks as they were fishing for sahnon trout 
in the pool below the fall on the river, they talked 
freely, as they had often done, of the condition 
of public affairs. Each had found place for a 
change of view on many subjects, and each with 
sturdy honesty held to those opinions which he 
thought were true. That day the question of the 
tariff and its effects was being discussed. Roger 
was for free trade; Bingham, for the tariff. 

" Johnny," said his friend, " if I were selfish, I 
would want the tariff protection removed; and if 
you were selfish, you would certainly wish it re- 
tained. Do you know4hat this part of Georgia is 
destined to be the great workshop of America? 


New England cannot present one-half of the ad- 
vantages 3'ou have here for manufacturing, and 
our factories are already established, and need no 
help. Not so here. Take the spot where we are 
sitting. Here is water power sufficient to run one 
hundred thousand spindles. It never fails. Here 
is stone enough at your very door for every build- 
ing you can wish, and here is timber in the 
greatest abundance. Here are the people to work 
the mills at reasonable wages, and here is the cot- 
ton right at your door to spin, were your factories 
already built as ours are. You can make yarn 
and muslin, and ship it to Binghampton and sell it 
for twenty-five per cent, profit, and then undersell 
us if we sold at cost." 

"Well, all that, Yank, may be true, but that 
does not make protection right. But I argue with 
you as to its benefit to us if we could take advan- 
tage of it. But w^e have no capital; and, as my 
old friend, Col. Howard, says: 'You can't get a 
goose to w^ater without capital.' " 

" That is true, also, but there is an over abund- 
ance of capital in New England. It is timid, but 
will go where it is safe and where it promises to 
give a good return. Now, suppose we form a 
company. You put in this water power and this 
quarry and fifty acres of land at about $10,000, 


and I will put up that amount in mone}^, and I am 
sure I can stock up a company with $100,000 

"Agreed! " said Roger. 

"Look out! there goes your cork," and the 
conversation suddenly came to a halt, as the Con- 
necticut colonel drew a splendid trout to the shore. 
The next day the visitors were to go to Tallu- 
lah. It was too much of a journey to go and re- 
turn in a day, so the tourists went the afternoon 
before and spent the next day at the falls, and of 
what they saw Clara wrote her mother in an en- 
thusiastic letter. The estimate of the fair maiden 
will be fully indorsed by any one who ever looked 
upon Tallulah, which is one of the most unique 
and magnificent spectacles presented east of the 
Rocky Mountains. The Tallulah River, which 
rises in the mountains of Rabun, in Upper Geor- 
gia, is a stream of considerable size when, spark- 
ling and bright and free, it dashes into a deep ra- 
vine in Habersham. Through this narrow ravine, 
between mountains of sandstone which tower hun- 
dreds of feet above the river bed, the river comes 
hurrying, at first playfully, then earnestly, then an- 
grily. It meets obstructions in the precipices which 
cross its channel, then it sweeps on and, foam- 
ing in its rage, roaring in its anger, it rushes down- 


ward until it loses itself in the grand chasm. No 
wonder the Indians called it "The Terrible." 
This great chasm is nearly one thousand feet deep, 
and on every side tower the walls of the preci- 
pice, and in their bosom is embraced the limpid 
stream, which is now calm and peaceful after its 
terrific passion. No one can look on such a scene 
without a thrill and almost an ecstasy of delight. 

Clara wrote to her mother: 

" Ivy Bush," May. 

My Darling Mother : I did not know there was in the world, 
much less in Georgia, wliich I have always looked upon as a 
dreary plain of ponds and pine woods, such a magnificent scene 
as that which we looked on yesterday. Capt. Lawson told me 
Tallulah had no equal this side of the Rocky Mountains, and 
I am sure he is right; and brother says that if he had choice of 
spending a second week at Niagara or at Tallulah he would 
take Tallulah every time. 

The river is not a large one. It is as clear as crystal and as 
blue as the sky. It comes sweeping down between high moun- 
tains, which slope gradually down about a hundred feet from 
the river bed, and then become bare precipices. Above this 
they are covered with cedars and ivy. There are rude path- 
way's made along the stream on one of its banks, and from the 
brink of the precipice, over which the water dashes, you can 
look down into the boiling waves, where the rainbow contin- 
ually flashes in beauty. 

At last the river rushes into the grand chasm, an immense 
amphitheater whose walls are near one thousand feet high. 
Here we rested, and while Helen and I were gathering pebbles 
and flowers brother and Capt. Lawson, unpoetic fellows, were 


tn'ing to catch some fish. I am glad to say they did not suc- 

I cannot begin to describe the scenes around us here. They 
are in such variety and there is such a mingling of beauty and 
grandeur that when I begin to write I am bewildered. 

We spent several hours in the grand chasm, and had our lunch 
there, and then we began the task of climbing out. There is 
only one way of egress, where the rocks are not bare and steep. 
It requires a climb of nearly a mile to get back to the heights 
again. We were thoroughly done up when we reached the road. 
We had a pleasant ride homeward, and reached "Ivy Bush" 
about dark. 

I can't tell j'ou what a pleasant time I have had with these 
kind-hearted Southerners. Brother and Capt. Lawson sit down 
and talk about the war and shooting at each other, just as if it 
was nothing; and when Col. Billups came out to spend an even- 
ing he was just as kind to brother as if they had been in the 
same army. 

Let me tell you of something which touched me very much. 
The other day Helen had gone to see a sick neighbor, and 
brother and Capt. Lawson had gone to the village to fix up 
some papers, and I was sitting under the oak tree in an easy- 
chair reading, when the gate opened and I saw a regular Geor- 
gia " cracker." She was dressed in a dress of yellow homespun 
made in the style of a hundred years ago. She had on a sun- 
bonnet of cheap calico; her shoes were brogans. She had a 
hard face, but a kindly one, and had a very bright eye. She 
evidently took me for Helen. She came up to rhe and said in 
a very curious tone: " Is you Capt. Lawson's sister.'' " 

" No, ma'am ; I'm a stranger." 

"You is.-* Whar is you from.'' " 

" Frorh Connecticut." 

"Connecticut.' whar is that.'" 


" Why away up North." - 

" What? is you a yankee? " 

" Well, that's what they call us." 

" Well, the yankees killed my husband, and he never done 
'em no harm. Is you Capt. Lawson's folks?" 

" No, only his friend." 

" Well, ef you is his friend, I is your friend." 

"You like him, then?" 

"Like him! I love the very ground he walks on, and you 
would not wonder as I do ef you knowed what he's dun for 

"What did he do?" I said. 

" Well, when I was a pore widder with four little childern 
and my daddy was dead and old Bill Hillborn stole my land, 
Capt. Lawson got it back for me, and I never paid him a cent, 
and old Bill Hillborn could have almost made him rich. I 
hain't been able to do nothin' for him yit, but I knit these socks 
this winter and I've brung 'em to him. As his sister hain't here, 
I wish you would give 'em to him." 

She handed me a half-dozen pairs of plain, country-knit 
socks as her present. It was a rather awkward thing for a 
young lady to give such a present to a gentleman, and when 
Helen came I handed the qv;aint gift to her with the message of 
love the woman had left for him. 

You need not smile. I certainly am not in love with the 
unreconstructed young rebel ; but it is not often you see one 
more worthy of a woman's love. Helen is a jewel, but how they 
could be other than what they are with such a mother I could 
hardly see. 

Our visit is nearly at an end. To-morrow we are going to 
Atlanta, and thence to Savannah and by steamer to New York. 
Brother sends love. 

Affectionately, Clara. 


The last night of the stay of the visitors had 
come. They were on the porch of the cottage sit- 
ting under the woodbines. The honeysuckle vine 
breathed its fragrance on the air, and the gentle 
breeze from the hills brought the sweet odor of the 
wild grape on its bosom. The moon was full, and 
the moonbeams came softly through the vines. The 
young people had just come from the sitting room, 
where Roger had held the evening family worship, 
and now they sat there on the vine-covered porch. 
There were the rustic seats in the front }■ ard under 
two large oaks, and they went out into the yard 
and occupied them. What they said to each other 
as they sat there in the moonlight I never knew. 
Indeed, I think that eavesdropping is not the proper 
thing to do. I simply know that they talked long 
and softly. The weird notes of the whip-poor-will 
came from the grove, and the low murmur of the 
waterfall fell on the ear. The sky was bright, the 
air Vv^as balmy, the young people were susceptible, 
and if anything had happened it would not have 
been a strange event. 

Col. Bingham looked somewhat thoughtful that 
night, and said little. And the next day when 
they parted at Mt. Airy there v/as a strange reserve 
in Helen's manner toward him, while her warm em- 
brace told Clara of her sadness at her o'oinoc. 


"Johnny, old fellow," Bingham said, "you do 
not know how much I have enjoyed this reunion. 
May the union of our hearts be typical of the un- 
ion of this sadly divided country ! Come to Con- 
necticut, and let me show you that a cold-blooded 
yankee has a warm place in his heart for even an 
unmitigated rebel such as you are." 

The cars moved off, and there was a real feel- 
ing of loss at " Ivy Bush " when the visitors were 



^jfcf^HE mail to Clarksville came now every day, 
^ and almost every other day Miss Helen Law- 
son received a letter from somebody, I don't know 
who. I never read these letters, nor did I read 
those written in a lady's hand which went to Col. 
J. H. Bingham, at Binghamton, Conn. 

I heard some very ill-natured things said about 
the way Col. Bingham had been treated at " Ivy 
Bush," but they were said by Bill McAtee. He 
said that " any man who would treat the enem}- of 
his country as Roger Lawson had treated Col. 
Bingham, instead of being in the Legislature ought 
to be in the penitentiary." 

Andy Rhodes heard him say it, and in his quaint 
way he said, with some expressions I omit: "Bill 
McAtee, you've never got over Roger Lawson's a 
beatin' you for the Legislature. Now, you'd better 
dry up ! Everybody knows that you hid out o' the 
war, and got among Joe Brown's pets, and never 
done nothin' but grumble; and I jist tell you that 

Roger Lawson is too much of a gentleman to no- 
es o 

tice you ; but Andy Rhodes hain't, and if 5^ou want 



to keep his hands off en you, you jest keep your 
tongue offen Roger Lawson ! " 

Roger had gone on steadily in his work. Col. 
Billups took him into partnership, and the firm of 
Billups & Lawson was the leading firm of lawyers 
in the upcountry. 

I was on my circuit when I received this letter 
from Roger. It was written in October, 1869: 

My Dear Parson : Mj Sister Helen expects to be married to 
Col. J. H. Bingham, of Connecticut, on the 30th inst. She de- 
sires, as we all do, that jou should perform the ceremony. 
Come over to " Ivy Bush," and go with us to the church at Sa- 
lem, where she is to be married. 

Affectionately yoiir old friend, Roger Lawson. 

I reached Mt. Airy, where I was to meet Roger, 
and found Col. Bingham and his sister. They 
were going to Clarksville, and expected to come out 
the next day to " Ivy Bush." The express agent 
called to Roger, and said: " I have some packages 
for you." And there were a number evidently con- 
taining wedding presents. Several small packages 
were marked "valuable," and were directed to 
Miss Helen Lawson. One of them came from 
Binghamton, Conn. 

When they reached home Roger handed his 
sister the package from Connecticut, and when she 
opened it there were "Cr^^ jewels that her father had 
given her. In addition to them, there was a beau- 
tiful watch. This was a present from the groom. 


The secret was now out. The yankee officer 
who was in Savannah was Col. Bingham, and the 
jewels had been bought for the bride when the 
time should come that she should be his. 

There was a box for Mrs. Lawson. One may- 
know at once what it had in it. The Lawson sil- 
ver was at home again. It had on it a simple card: 
" With the grateful love of John H. Bingham." 

The next day a little congregation met at Salem, 
the country church. The wife of James Bass and 
the school children had decorated the little church 
with evergreens, and a congregation of loving 
neighbors had come to the wedding. Roger and 
Clara stood beside the sister, and Aunt Bass and 
Uncle Bass sat each near the loving mother, and 
I, the old chaplain of Col. Lawson's regiment, 
read the beautiful service of our Church and mar- 
ried the young folks, and never did I do that with 
a firmer assurance than that this " holy estate had 
been entered into reverently, discreetly, and in the 
fear of God." 

Aunt Judy was at home fixing up for the wed- 
ding dinner, but Mammy and Uncle Jack were 
here at the church, and among those who gave 
their hands in congratulation there were none more 
heart}' than dear old Mammy and dear Uncle 


A small party — Squire Bass and his wife, and 
James Bass and his wife, and Col. Billups and his 
family — gathered around the table at " Ivy Bush " 
to a sumptuous dinner which Aunt Jud}^ and Chloe 
had prepared, and Jack in all his glory was pres- 
ent to welcome the guests and wait on the table. 

Among the many gifts was a gorgeous brooch 
from " Hon. Robert Lawson, Esq., of Liberty 
County, to Miss Helen Lawson, with his compli- 
ments." Bob's taste was not the best, but his 
motives were the kindest. 

The bride and groom and Clara went on a long 
bridal tour to Florida, Mobile, and New Orleans; 
and then to Connecticut, vv'here the good old mother 
and sister of Col. Bingham welcomed the Southern 
bride with genuine tenderness. 

The factory company was formed and the " Ivy 
Bush Factory" was established, and after a few 
years Col. Bingham left Connecticut and came to 
Georgia and manages the mill. 

Roger did not marry Clara as you expected (she 
married the Congregational minister in Bingham- 
ton), but Miss Mary Billups. He was long ago 
elected the judge of his circuit, and is trusted and 
loved and honored by all his people. He is to-day 
a Confederate veteran, but while on the best terms 
with those who wore the blue, is never ashamed to 


tell of the deeds of the ' ' boy in gray ; ' ' and nothing 
delights Helen's two " yankee boys," as she calls 
them, more than to hear Uncle Roger tell of his 
adventures, unless it is for the two rebel sons of 
Roger to hear their Uncle John tell of the deeds 
of the " boy in blue." 

And now, under the somewhat flimsy covering 
of a fiction, I have tried to tell the boys and girls 
not exactly what I saw and felt, but what did oc- 
cur durinfj the war and after it. If one should 
ask who is the real hero of this story, I perhaps 
could not tell him. The fathers of my readers 
can possibly call up the memory of more than one 
who bore at least some part such as Roger bore, 
and possibly their mothers knew of more than one 
Helen who bravely bore her part as well. 

I trust our children will all remember that at 
fearful cost we their fathers settled som.e ques- 
tions that they must never allow to be opened, and 
the one settled forever is the fearful danger of 
sectionalism. The strife which began in 1832 in 
a bitter war of words between the South and the 
North reached its natural end in the clashing of 
swords thirty years after that. This is our coun- 
try — North, South, East, West — all ours, and the 
blood and treasure it has cost has been poorly 
spent if our children do not see it so.